Something in the Mist
by Lilly-Belle
Summary: The shadowy threat of Malifishmirtz, unrest amongst the sprites, political schemes, strange magic, rumors of a prophecy whispering though the land—and because teenage life just isn't difficult enough, Phineas, Ferbalot, and Isabel find themselves in the middle of it all. Charged as the kingdom's last hope, a new adventure begins...
1. Prologue: The Mirror Mist

_Hi, everybody! It's good to be back! If I have some of those wonderful readers from my last story, I'm so happy to see you! This AN will be a smidge longer, so bear with me! TADA! My surprise is a massive, complex, and intriguing __sequel to the Excaliferb episode! For those who were wondering when More Than Enough would be posted, the reason for its delay is this baby right here! I'm 125 pages into this story… so I decided I should probably start posting!_

_I will mass-post the first three chapters so you have something to really sink your teeth into, but I'd love a response to each chapter, if you feel so inclined! For those who read Enough, you know I used to post a new 12 page chapter every two days… Due to the complexity and girth of this monster, it will not be so quick XD but it will still be very timely, I promise!_

_I have a partner in all of this. Her name is HeroXLink, and she is AMAZING! She's designing character outfits and maps, and whatnot, so when we get those up, I'll direct you guys to DeviantArt so you can see them! Ultimate props to her._

_**IMPORTANT:** Now time for story stuff… Excaliferb ended on a humorous note, as is typical of the creators of the show, but this story will be very serious. Because of that, there are some basic assumptions I'd like to lay down..._

_a) Malifishmirtz (though his doofy, utterly ridiculous side is adorable and wonderful) is a legitimate threat. He may seem OOC for the show, since that Malifishmirtz is far from threatening, but I'm forming his character in this story as menacing and serious._

_b) The "Peace Accord" mentioned at the end of the episode was with the monsters, NOT with Malifishmirtz; let's all pretend it ended with an epic fight with our heroes standing triumphant, before "Malifishmirtz escaped, bent on laying the grounds for the sequel." I promise you an engaging story if you do so ^.^_

_c) Yes, Excaliferb broke. That stays, but the notion that they all just quite fighting, as Carl read, is being discarded. It was a giant battle, and Perrible beat Malifishmirtz._

_Just go into this with an appetite for a serious fantasy quest jam-packed with all the PnF characters you know and love, and we'll have a great time!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

PROLOGUE:

The Mirror Mist

* * *

"You know I have no reason to lie to you, Syneia. Corlithan and his sprites are gone. Every last one of them wiped out."

Syneia shook her head at this answer, her eyes locked on the surface of a small pool. Its water was the deepest blue, coursing with sprite magic that made it shimmer despite the darkness of the underground. Reflected in it were the images of the other three Mist Weavers, their expressions just as troubled and deep in thought as hers.

"And we are certain that Malifishmirtz stole their magic?" she demanded.

"You know very well that he took their magic," a scruffy, bearded sprite grumbled. "You could feel the loss of Corlithan just as well as every one of us. Don't waste our time with superfluous questions."

"Peace, Torias," Syneia sighed. She ran her hand over the water, covering the surface in gentle ripples and sending the Mirror Mist wafting upward in a cloud. "If we are going to survive Malifishmirtz's second rise, we need to make sure we all understand. Knowledge never favors discretion."

"Indeed," spoke Gevenora, her willowy voice echoing from the water. "The loss of a fellow Mist Weaver is tragic, but I fear it is not the largest challenge we face. I am certain that you have not forgotten the prophecy. Is that not of a higher priority right now than loss of one of our council and his camp of sprites?"

This brought a silence, each sprite faltering with her words. Syneia expected Torias to once again complain; Gevenora's question was the most superfluous of all. They remembered the Lady of the Lake's prophecy with painful accuracy.

"Alright," Torias exhaled. Syneia watched his Mist reflection in the pool run a tired hand over his face. "Alright, I'll ask the question that needs to be asked; what of the girl?"

"Yes," Gevenora agreed. "This is most pressing of all. While we make this decision together, you understand that its execution lies solely upon your shoulders, Syneia."

"Of course," Syneia agreed. "But I am uncertain if there is any decision to be made."

Morivan, the last of the council, cleared his throat. "I agree with Syneia. Any actions regarding the girl right now would be rash and ill thought. Nothing should—"

"The loss of Corlithan and his sprites changes the situation," Gevenora protested. "Syneia, your camp is the closest to Corlithan's. If Malifishmirtz finds you next—if he finds the girl—"

"I hear you, Weaver, but I believe she is still safer here, where I can keep an eye on her. The girl has barely made it to her eleventh year. Sending her out from our care would be a death sentence."

"Is that affection in your voice, Syneia?" Torias ventured, his tone taunting and cold. Syneia sniffed indignantly.

"Of course not. I care not for the girl, but our duty is to the kingdom. Her death is a death sentence for us all. She will surely die if she is removed from our supervision."

"But imagine what it would be if Malifishmirtz found your camp, Syneia."

"Better here than out there."

"And yet that is what we said about Corlithan and his sprites. Now they're all gone and Malifishmirtz is that much stronger."

A silence befell them all. This was why there were always five Mist Weavers for the sprite council; stalemates over the fate of their kind were never an issue. Now, when there were only four… Syneia's wings twitched in her deliberation.

"I don't know, Weavers. I still do not—"

"Discussing important matters, are we?" spoke a new voice, and the surface of the pool began rippling with power.

"Greetings, Your Ladyship," Gevenora addressed the newcomer, the other sprites in the pool following her example.

"Lady of the Lake, we welcome you," Syneia hummed. "Your timing could not have been more perfect. I was just telling the others that the girl—"

"Is no longer safe amongst the sprites," the Lady of the Lake finished. Gevenora and Torias nodded with her words.

That was the discussion. The debate was over. The Mist Weavers were never to question the wisdom of the Lady of the Lake; it was she whom all sprites served.

"I acquiesce, Your Ladyship," Syneia sighed with a bow. "But I must know… what makes you possibly think the girl will be safe on her own? What makes you believe she will not fall victim to Malifishmirtz's minions scouring the entire kingdom in search of us?"

Torias' wings flapped violently. "Syneia, you do not question—"

"It's alright, my spritelings," soothed the Lady of the Lake. "These are valid questions. Although I cannot glean all that will occur, I can assure you that she will find protection."

"You believe she will find a way to remain hidden from Malifishmirtz?"

"I do," she reiterated. "The little sprite is not as alone as we might think."

"There is another issue here," Morivan cut in. "Before we send her away, do we undo our spell?"

"Removing the spell may be beneficial for the child," Gevenora offered, but Torias growled at the prospect.

"Removing the spell would only make her that much easier to find. Might as well paint a target on her wings and spread the word across the entire kingdom to help Malifishmirtz. No, the spell stays."

"For once I agree with Torias," Syneia stated. "The spell must remain intact. Anything less would be a disaster. Do you agree, Your Ladyship?"

The following silence resounded through the hollow space with an eerie finality, but when the Lady of the Lake spoke, her voice was as strong as ever.

"I do. This is a fight placed upon her shoulders at birth, but a fight she shan't face alone. She will seek out others. It shall align in ways I cannot even begin to fathom, and those of the prophecy will step forth. When the time comes, we just have to hope that it will be enough."

Syneia let out a deep breath. "I believe we have reached an accord, then. It is too large of a risk to have the girl remain with my camp of sprites. I shall take care of the problem."

The other sprites nodded their approval before, one by one, their images faded from the pool. Syneia waved her hand over the water, and the last of the Mirror Mist that clung to its surface dissipated. Her small cavern fell once again into darkness, but she didn't mind; she had to return to the world above anyway.

With a strong burst of movement from her wings, she took off.

She had to find Isabel.

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Don't worry if you're confused; that's often how prologues are supposed to be!_

_Every other chapter from here out is centered completely on the PnF characters; I simply had to have this OC one to establish a few things. It may not seem like much of a start, but keep going. Let me try to get you hooked!_

_The adventure begins..._

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	2. A Sprite's Duty

_I hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER ONE:

A Sprite's Duty

* * *

"Isabel, you're going to get in trouble if you're out too long again."

Isabel ignored her friend's reprimands, flying up to the top of a tree and grabbing a vine coiled along a branch.

"This would be much easier if you helped me, Adyssa," she groaned, trying to pull the vine loose. The stubborn thing didn't want to budge. She looked down pleadingly, meeting the eyes of the other sprites. "Gingrelle? Hollivere?"

They only shook their heads, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. She was justified in her actions, though. Why could they not see that?

Finally, Adyssa spoke again. "Isabel, we were due back a quarter of a mark ago. You heard what the Mist Weavers—"

"Yes. Yes, I'm perfectly aware of the Mist Weaver's words." She gave another pull on the vine, feeling it shift a little, then snag. "But what do you expect me to do? Leave the poor little thing to die?"

Her gaze shifted to the shrubbery at the base of the tree, where she met the scared, glossy black orbs of the fawn. It blinked languidly before laying its head on the ground. Its back leg twitched, its ankle bent just a little too…

Isabel cringed, squeezing her eyes shut. The free, flying prance of a gazelle had to be her favorite thing in all the forest. She knew she just might be able to help this little one, and if she could, she would.

If only she could get this loose! Though she admired this vine's stubbornness, she didn't exactly appreciate it right now.

"Gretchen, would you help me? Millinda?"

"The life of one deer isn't worth all of our lives," Gretchen sighed. "We are to remain hidden for a reason, Isabel. You know it isn't safe."

"But it's just a baby. We—"

"Have to go," Hollivere cut in, crossing her arms. "Now."

"We can't just leave—"

"You never make sense, Isabel," Adyssa exclaimed, flying up next to the sprite. "Deer die all the time. It's the way of things. Let the creature die. If Malifishmirtz—"

"Don't say his name!" Isabel gasped, her hand flying out to cover the sprite's mouth. Adyssa smacked it away.

"You know saying his name won't make him suddenly appear, or anything. What's with you?"

Isabel turned away. They often had this discussion. She couldn't remember how many times she'd gotten the 'what's with you?' speech, and every time she did, her spirits fell just a little more.

It would be easier if she understood why she kept getting it. _Isabel, why did you just stop to smell that flower? Isabel, why did you just go so out of your way to jump through the leaves? Isabel, why did you stop to play with the doe? _So many times… was fun not a good enough answer? Or compassion? None of the sprites in their camp seemed to think so.

"Well I'm staying," she declared boldly. "It's hurt, and I'm going to help it. If you aren't okay with it, you can go back to that stuffy underground like Syneia wanted."

She didn't know why she tried them like this; she knew what the outcome would be. It made the most sense to return back to where they were safe, to where the threat of discovery by Malifishmirtz was mitigated. And if it made the most sense, it was what sprites were to do.

"Don't forget your duty, Isabel," Gingrelle sighed, gesturing to her bundle of flower pollen. "If you insist on being disobedient, at least don't disregard your responsibilities."

With that, Isabel watched her sprite friends fly off.

She felt her heart grow heavy. She knew it wasn't a direct statement against her, or a lack of loyalty. They just didn't understand that maybe the Mist Weaver's way wasn't the only way. Or maybe it was she who didn't understand, and she alone. After all, the rest of the camp seemed content to follow every order, to fulfill their duty with absolute resolve.

She wouldn't let it deter her, though. Now that she was alone, she knew force wouldn't get that stupid vine to come undone. The Mist Weavers advised against using any magic that could give away their location, but what she had planned would be subtle enough.

She called on the water running through the vine, concentrating as hard as she could to get it to rise and slice through the thicker, outer layer. She could feel it lingering there, tugging up slightly at her beckons. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrenching the liquid up with all her will.

The sound of the vine bursting filled her ears, and with a smile, she opened her eyes. It was cut clean through. She took the newly created end and flew around the branch, unwinding it from around the surface until it fell nearly to the ground. She let it drop. Flying up to where the smaller branches hung, she snapped off a few pieces of the wood, then coasted back to the ground.

At the sound of her feet landing on leaves, the deer's head shot up. It eyed her warily, trepidation in the swell of its pupils, but it was in no condition to run.

"It's alright," she cooed, holding her hands out to the creature. "I'm going to help you."

Sprites weren't bad with animals, being the keepers of the forest, and all, but Isabel knew she was the best. Maybe because she actually took the time to reach out to them, rather than fly by and cower at the nearest opportunity. She secretly played with them as much as their brief excursions out of their hiding holes would allow. It was one of the few times she felt talented, or… accepted.

"If you let me, I will help," she spoke again, concentrating on creating a calming lull to her words. The deer leaned into her hand, and she smiled. "That's it. Everything's alright. I'll need you to stay still for me, okay?"

She lined the wood she gathered in parallel lines and connected them together using blades of grass. Although it was heavy, she pulled them to wrap around the fawn's ankle, right along the nasty sprain. Then she grabbed the vine, flying around and around the limb. When she covered all the wood, she tied it off as tightly as her little wings could pull her.

Isabel beamed at her makeshift splint. She wasn't sure how much time had passed in its creation, but she tried not to fixate on that. Instead, she focused on the trembling of the fawn's watery orbs, its gaze binding to hers with what she was sure was a special animal rendition of a thank you.

"You're going to be okay," she hoped, patting its nose as the little thing attempted to stand. It staggered, limping and quivering drastically as it moved, but it could stay on its feet. "You may be weak now, but the strongest spirit can do anything. You're just going to be a little… _different_, that's all."

It's tongue lapped lovingly at her leg, and she gave the creature a sad smile.

"Being different is okay. I mean, if _I_ weren't different, I wouldn't be here right now. So you'll be alright." She sat down on the bridge of its nose, stroking its soft fur. "You'll see."

She let out a sigh. She loved it out here. The open air, the flowers, the animals. She hated that all the sprites had to go into hiding after Malifishmirtz escaped nearly a year ago. The ground was dank and stifling, and she longed for the blue skies.

She was certain the other sprites must have had the same preferences, but every conversation where she brought it up was permeated with the dreaded word _duty. _They had a duty to the Mist Weavers. A dutyto the Lady of the Lake. A duty to their kingdom.

Was it so wrong for her to believe that other things mattered, too?

"I have to go now," she whispered to her new friend. "Please, _please _stay safe. I'm going to get in a heap of trouble for staying behind with you, so you better make it worth it. You better grow up big and strong."

Knowing she could delay no further, she gave the fawn one last pat on the nose before turning to leave. Her eyes watered, but she gulped the emotion down. She flew to the base of the tree, scooping up her bundle of flower pollen and zooming back to Syneia's sprite camp as quickly as her wings could take her.

Although she griped, she knew she viewed the underground confines of their camp as far more suffocating and fusty than it really was. The word _underground_ itself was highly misleading, since they weren't living completely under the earth. They lived below the surface, yes, but largely amongst the roots of a giant oak tree, rising and falling out of the dirt, with large expanses underneath. Natural light still fell through in splotches, and the roots kept it smelling of vegetation.

Isabel loved to fly, though, which was something the enclosed recess didn't allow. It only built upon her perceived lack of freedom, and made the space seem like it was closing in on itself. She couldn't stand it.

It was Malifishmirtz's fault. If only she knew what he was planning. Then the sprites might be able to find a way to return to the way their lives had been before his escape.

She landed on one of the roots near an entryway and clambered down the bark. She figured if she slipped in by foot near the bottom rather than flying in like the sprites usually would, there was less of a chance she'd be noticed.

As her imaginary luck would have it, though, she tripped on one of the root's ridges. She would have tumbled to the ground if not for the fact that she was a flying creature, but her bundle of pollen plummeted downward.

As uncoordinated as she'd always been with her feet, she made up for it in wing agility. She rocketed after it and caught the bag, but the pressure was enough for the top to burst open into a sticky orange haze.

She gasped in surprise, unable to see but falling still. She zoomed into one of the openings underground, toppling to a stop, coughing and wheezing as she tried to rid her lungs of the pollen.

So much for a stealthy entrance. She was busted. So very, very busted.

Only she… wasn't? The first thing that hit her was the sound—or the complete lack of it. It was dead silent. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, only to be met with a tangled sprawl of roots, heaps of dirt, and rocks.

She slowly stood, taking her bag more gingerly this time and inspecting it. Thankfully she lost only maybe the top quarter. She figured no one would even notice, since there were no witnesses to the mishap. Which… was odd.

"Hello?" she called into the empty space. "Where is everybody?"

No response.

Her wings fluttered nervously as she ventured deeper into the darkness. Usually the sprites had special stones down here—gifts from the Lady of the Lake—that glowed blue and lit the passages through the earth. Now they only simmered a dull gray.

"Hello?"

"Isabel," greeted a strong, resonating voice behind her, and she spun around.

"Syneia!" she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "By the Lady—you scared me!"

"Did I?" she intoned flatly, gliding toward her with an unnatural steadiness that only Mist Weavers seemed able to achieve.

"Yes. Where are the rest of the sprites? When I didn't see anybody, I was afraid… well, I was scared that…"

"Malifishmirtz had found and wiped us all out?"

Isabel cringed. She never understood how Mist Weavers could so easily speak such things. It was challenging for her.

"Well… that's not quite what I…"

"The others are fine. I simply have them hiding deeper than usual today—something you would know if you respected your duties."

"I understand. I—"

"Do you? As you know, we've been hiding because Malifishmirtz is aiming to rebuild the magic he lost when he first fell by taking that of the sprites. He is literally ripping our magic from us so that he can become stronger, Isabel."

"I know, Milady. But we were remaining diligent to not be seen. I promise we were."

Her eyebrow rose coldly. "An entire mark late is what you call diligent?"

"I had to. You don't understand, there was this little fawn—just a baby—and—"

"And the flower pollen?"

"I'm truly sorry about that. It slipped from my hands, but it happens all the time. It was only a little bit, and—"

"Isabel, the threat is worse than you know," she sighed. "Corlithan and his entire camp were lost to Malifishmirtz."

"_What?_" Had she heard her correctly? Malifishmirtz found an entire camp of sprites? He even got a Mist Weaver? That… that couldn't be possible, could it?

"We cannot afford any _mistakes_ if we are to remain hidden."

Isabel jerked back at this. Syneia had done nothing to mask the threat in her words, and her message was more pointed than Malifishmirtz's horns; she was a walking mistake. One Syneia couldn't afford.

"I'm sorry. It won't—"

"Nor can we afford any discordance amongst you spritelings at this time. It is in this name that we Mist Weavers—"

"Discordance?" she breathed. "That's extreme, Milady. I—"

"You want to question my claim of discordance? Look at you. Arguing with a Mist Weaver? Interrupting one, letting yourself be carried away by emotion... I am not the only sprite who has noticed such behaviors. Crying over an ailing flower or wounded doe, or risking our secrecy with laughter and venturing off because of your curiosity. Becoming offended by your fellow sprites because they do not care about such superfluous matters. You know you have never fit in here, Isabel."

"I'm sorry, Milady." She felt her frustration rising, and with it came that same sense of defiance—of injustice—that she'd often grappled with living amongst the sprites. "I was under the impression you always encouraged us to speak freely. I'm afraid I don't—"

"This is what I mean, youngling. You apologize yet again? You know sprites don't do such things. We were hoping sending you on that quest for Excaliferb would do you some good, but even that you failed."

Mist Weaver or not, those last words rendered Isabel absolutely beside herself. She felt her indignation roiling up into her throat.

"I failed? What do you mean I _failed?_ I led the boys to the sword. We triumphed over Malifishmirtz! How could you say I—"

"Isabel!" she resounded sternly, her knuckles turning white over the staff in her hands. "It will do you well to remember just to whom you are speaking."

She nodded, looking down to her feet. She fought to blink back angry tears.

"Yes. I'm—" She bit her tongue. She'd been about to apologize again, but Syneia was right; it was yet another thing sprites didn't do. Something else she wasn't supposed to do.

"You led the boys to the sword, but you did not prepare them enough. The sword broke, and if not for their ingenuity with potions and their _pet_, you would have failed. That quest was a responsibility the Lady of the Lake placed upon your shoulders, but you never proved you could handle the weight."

"But what—"

"You are to now listen, youngling," she snapped, "and not be heard. These are trying times, and we Mist Weavers will do what we must for the good of those we watch over. Malifishmirtz must not be allowed to kill any more sprites and gain their power. Today you proved to be a threat. One we cannot afford. It is because of this that the Mist Weavers, with all the authority of the Lady of the Lake, banish you."

She blinked. "What?"

"You are not allowed to flee to the other camps. You are to remain hidden from Malifishmirtz above all else, and—"

"Wait! Wait, wait_, wait!_" Isabel's hands flew to her forehead. Syneia's words were beyond her comprehension. Banished. She felt her mind shutting down with that word_._ "What do you mean I'm banished?"

"Just that. Now hush, child, I—"

"No, how could I—how could you banish me? I mean… _banish me? _I—you—and for _dropping pollen? _I don't even… Just a fortnight ago, Katilda—"

"Reign in your emotions, spriteling," Syneia called over her stuttering. "You are only proving how dangerous you are. You do not belong here. Time and again you've shown that. Will you so recklessly endanger the others?"

She was a danger to the others? She knew she stayed out longer than what the Mist Weavers deemed they should, but… that wasn't actually harmful to the other sprites, was it? Was she really a threat to them? Her spirits plummeted like her pollen bag earlier.

"I…" She squeezed her eyes closed, the rest of her words dying in her throat before they had a chance at life. As much as they didn't seem to understand her, she would never want to be responsible for something bad happening to Gingrelle, Gretchen, or any of the other sprites in her camp.

"I thought not," Syneia stated, completely composed and void of emotion. This was typical of sprites, which was one of the things that had always confused Isabel the most. "This will be your last night among us. Do not let Malifishmirtz or his minions find you, and never return, lest you risk revealing our location. Be gone from me now."

Banished. She was really being banished?

"But—"

"I said be gone."

"I still don't understand. I—"

"The Mist Weavers have spoken, Isabel, and our word is final." Syneia flew past her, her long, blue dress sweeping around her legs. She held her staff out to the side, as if to actually cut her off from the others lingering deeper in the tunnel.

"Is this really happening?" was all she could bring herself to whisper. Her hands were trembling, and she found herself sinking farther and farther to the bottom of the niche.

"You have always lived beyond reality, Isabel. It is time you learn of it." The Mist Weaver looked back over her shoulder, her eyes shrewd and unyielding. "Now leave me. You have some goodbyes to make."

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Isabel is banished from the sprites. What fantasy story is ever as it appears, though?__  
_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	3. Happy Accidents

_We finally get to see our favorite brothers! Enjoy!_

_Also, I love both Phinabella and Ferbella, and could honestly go either way. I was considering making this Phinabella, since that's more popular and accepted, but I decided Ferbella fit the Excaliferb universe. This is Ferb's story; he's the hero. Plus, with all that I have planned, it really fits. Even if Ferbella isn't your cup of tea, I promise you an __engaging and well-thought out story, so I implore you to give this the benefit of the doubt!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER TWO:

Happy Accidents

* * *

Ferb coughed violently and immediately covered his nose with the hem of his shirt. Somewhere off to his side, he heard Phineas struggling in a similar manner, but there was no chance in seeing him. Their whole backyard had been reduced to a thick, smelly haze.

Well, he figured it was safe to assume their new potion was a flop. It exploded into a dark, smoky screen just as they intended, but there were some effects that… didn't quite fit into their original equation. They had not accounted for the smell of the cloud that engulfed them. Ferb could only describe it as a mixture between a rotting corpse and an unattended barnyard.

Still struggling to breathe with such a putrid smell in the air, Phineas coughed and sputtered, "Inside!"

Stumbling from the intoxication of the fumes and his complete lack of vision, Ferb managed to follow his brother's voice to their backdoor. The two boys tumbled in and slammed it closed behind them, hoping their mediocre glass panels wouldn't leak and let that wretched gas inside.

Ferb bent over his knees, gasping for clean air, but Phineas sunk to the floor altogether, trying for deep breaths.

"That," he muttered, pausing for another cough, "did not go very well."

Ferb tilted his head up, raising a cynical eyebrow that said, y_ou think?_

Phineas leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, clearing his throat. After a quiet moment between the two, he burst out laughing. The sound was so familiar and uplifting, Ferb couldn't help but quietly join in. They hadn't had such an epic fail with one of their concoctions in a long time.

"My clothes smell revolting," Phineas finally voiced through his laughter, his nose crinkling in disgust.

Ferb nodded in agreement just as Candavere rounded the corner into the kitchen. She didn't even have enough time to shoot her brothers her usual suspicious glare before the smell hit. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew up to her nose.

"What is _that?_" she screeched, her voice muffled by her hand.

"Potion gone wrong," Phineas replied through a cough, standing up. He glanced over at Ferb and grinned. "We'll have to fix that."

"You two are so busted!" Candavere turned around as if it would help with the smell, calling over her shoulder, "Once mom finds out that you've stunk up the entire house, you'll be going down!"

With that, she ran out of the kitchen. She'd have a difficult time, though, considering their parents weren't actually home. Taking no heed of her threat, Phineas turned back to his brother.

"Well, I don't know about you, Ferb, but I'm going to find myself a change of clothes." He snatched off his hat and held it at arm's length, the smell of it wafting towards Ferb. "And then I'm going to burn these. How about we try again afterwards?"

Ferb stuck two thumbs up at his brother, also desperate to get out of his repulsive clothing. The two of them parted ways to their separate rooms, Ferb peeling off layers of clothing as he went. They spent the next mark scrubbing the stench off of themselves, and the mark after that drenching their clothes in as much hot water and soap as they could find around the house.

Hopefully leaving their initial attempt behind them, they returned to the backyard, Phineas immediately snatching the scroll upon which they'd jotted down their recipe notes. Fortunately, the nauseating smell had not stuck around, dissipating as soon as the cloud did. Although, as Ferb picked up the broken vial from their first smoke screen, he thought he could detect traces of it remaining.

"Well, let's see where we went wrong, shall we?" Phineas suggested, unrolling the parchment and laying it out on their alchemy table.

After a half a mark or so of Phineas throwing around solutions and Ferb scribbling everything down, they altered the equation, adjusting amounts and with the hope for a different yield. Something that wouldn't do lasting damage to their olfactory, preferably. The two of them jumped to work on their new version.

Phineas held his hand out, and Ferb passed him the next ingredient on their list, which he smashed into paste in a bowl. Ferb handed him another ingredient, but just as Phineas was about to pour it over the top, his head shot up.

"Hey, where's Perrible?"

They took a moment to peer around the entire backyard, but neither had luck in finding their pet.

"Well, even though he's a dragonpus, he does a lot," Ferb chimed in, and Phineas nodded.

It was far from the response he'd have given a year ago, but a lot had changed in that time. It had been a glorious, Malifishmirtz-free year in the kingdom. The people were finally liberated from the oppression of the Malifishmirtz line, and the Flynn-Fletchers finally learned the truth about where their pet went off to everyday.

They were surprised to learn their dragonpus—their seemingly ordinary _pet_—was the lead agent of the G.W.C.A., or the Guild Without a Cool Acronym, as their dragonpus had written out when he explained everything after their first fight with Malifishmirtz: after Perrible took him down, and freed the kingdom from the long-standing threat of vicious sorcerers—and with nothing but the help of a potion.

No complicated quests. No legendary swords that broke and rendered the wielder useless. No unnecessary feelings of failure.

"Ferb?"

His reminiscence was cut short as Ferb glanced up at his brother. Phineas was frowning at him in concern.

"You alright?" he inquired. "I held my hand out for an ingredient, but you were staring off into space."

Ferb nodded and lifted his hands up in a placating gesture. He returned to dicing up the maple root in front of him. That was as good of an answer as any for Phineas, who shrugged and returned to the task at hand.

Just as the sun started to sink in the sky, Phineas declared, "Finished!"

With practiced hands, he poured the vibrant red liquid into a vial Ferb held, who immediately sealed it off to limit its exposure to air. He lifted it up, warily watching it glint ruby in the sunlight, before holding it out to his brother.

"You can do the honors, Ferb," he laughed, holding his hands up in refusal of the vial. "Just be prepared to run."

Ferb rolled his eyes. Perhaps his brother thought a little too highly of his affinity for action. In the end, he only shrugged, though. He raised his arm, giving Phineas one more uncertain look, before he chucked it down on the ground.

They'd used one of their special vials, specifically tailored with thinner glass. It shattered on impact, the red liquid reacting immediately with the air and disappearing.

Phineas blinked. "Um… there's no smoke."

Ferb shook his head. For someone who was often oblivious, Phineas had an inexplicable tendency to state the obvious. It was something the older brother had grown to automatically overlook.

Then the stench hit them—more potent and rotten than before—and they doubled over. Ferb staggered back in shock and revulsion, taking in a sharp breath, which he regretted immensely. Their invisible assailant burned his throat. His mind became cloudy and unfocused. His brother grabbed his wrist and tugged him on, fumbling for the door handle in a daze.

Phineas threw it open, and they jetted inside as quickly as possible to avoid letting any more of the fumes in than absolutely necessary.

"If it changed the scent, it was only for the worst," Phineas wheezed, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides in an effort to avoid rubbing his eyes. "I'm not sure what caused the change in the color, though. Kind of ruins the whole idea of creating a smoke screen, huh, Ferb?"

Grimacing at the smell still tainting his nose, Ferb nodded, closing his eyes. They were sweltering from their double whammy of abuse that day. Not seeing it coming, he almost fell over when Phineas clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Third time's the charm, though, right?" he enthused, smiling even though his eyes were watering.

Ferb turned a baleful glower upon his brother; _really? You can't be serious._

Phineas laughed. "Well… maybe it can wait until tomorrow."

A low chattering sounded from the ground, and they glanced down to find Perrible, coughing out little bursts of fire as he also gagged on the horrendous odor.

"Oh, there you are, Perrible!" Phineas chuckled. He leaned down, scratching their choking dragonpus. "You missed all the fun."

* * *

Ferb ate his breakfast of pottage and milk as slowly as his brother would allow—which was to say not very slowly at all.

"Come on, Ferb," Phineas encouraged, already finished with his meal. He'd scarfed it down faster than Perrible could run away on bathing day, and was now bouncing in front of him. "I've been trying to figure out what went wrong, and I think it's all in the catalysis. What if heat isn't enough? What if we need an actual catalyzing agent?"

Ferb had just finished eating as Phineas was winding down on his list of potential issues, but before they could slip out back, their mother walked in.

"Hold it right there, boys," she called from behind them. "You know what day it is, right?"

Phineas and Ferb skidded to a halt.

"Is today Saturday?" Phineas asked.

"Yes it is," Lindavahle confirmed in a sing-song voice. It was a little too lilting and _Phineas-esque_ for Ferb that early in the morning. He only blinked in response.

Saturdays were chore days. They usually enjoyed working around the house and yard, but they were anxious to find the solution to the awful stench. It was rare for them to face a problem that confounded them, demanding more than one of their precious days of summer.

"Sure thing, mom," Phineas responded with a smile and a wave.

They almost made it out of the door before their mother reminded them, "Don't forget to fill the buckets and goad the geese!"

Working separately to get everything done faster, the two boys hurried through their projects. Ferb ran two buckets full of water to the kitchen for their mother to clean dishes, and Phineas prodded their geese into the backyard.

Phineas had that, _I have a project, and a problem, and I have to work on it right this very second, _look to his face, so their mother released them from the rest of their chores with a laugh.

"Time for the fun part!" Phineas beamed.

Their morning was devoured as they worked in unison to make the perfect potion. Phineas decided to go back to square one, since the first attempt actually created smoke. Ferb gathered all the required ingredients they needed—with a few tweaks, of course—and helped Phineas mix them together. A mark later, the two boys backed up against the house as Phineas held the vial over his head, a new potion inside.

"Want to do the honors, Ferb?" he asked, holding the potion out.

Ferb raised his eyebrow. Then he swung his arms dramatically in his brother's direction, as if to say, _oh no. This time, the honor is yours._

"Fair enough," he laughed. "You ready?"

Ferb put up one of his thumbs and smirked.

Never one to pass up a good show, Phineas counted down, "Three… two… _one!_"

Learning their lesson from yesterday, he chucked the vial at the ground a good distance away from them, in the center of the yard. It burst into a swelling fog of gray smoke. They both cringed in anticipation of burning lungs and watering eyes, but no smell came.

"Problem solved!" Phineas shouted, throwing his fist up in celebration. "Great work, Ferb!"

Ferb realized it was a little too early for celebration, though. He could just barely make out a weird, flickering orange light in the center of their yard, amidst the waves of smoke. One second, and it dawned on him that it was a fire.

In the blink of an eye, be shoved Phineas toward their alchemy table, where they usually kept a bucket of water on hand just for these kinds of situations. Meanwhile, he took off inside, going for that dishwater he'd retrieved.

Phineas had the unfortunate luck of finding their water bucket already empty. "Ferb!" he yelped, grabbing a few small beakers of water and pouring them over the fire. It didn't do even the remotest of good. "We need more water!"

Ferb remerged from the house with two buckets in hand, throwing one of them on the fire. It drowned out the rest of the flames, leaving a large chunk of their grass charred and smoldering.

Ferb set the other bucket down, but his sigh of relief was interrupted as a loud _honk _came from across the yard. Running around in turmoil, the end of her tail on fire, was their goose.

"Gertrude!" Phineas cried, his hand shooting out for the spare bucket before he charged across the yard. The goose ran in circles, making loud, panicked _honking_ noises, until Phineas dumped the entire pail of water on her. The goose came to a dead stop as the fire was extinguished, and Ferb tried not to laugh at the pink spot on her tail where feathers used to be.

Panting from the shock of it all, Phineas met his brother's eyes. Panic aside, they never had a dull moment. The scarred chunk of grass and the bare goose butt were only testament to this.

"Ferb, I know what else we're going to do today."

Ferb nodded, feeling his adrenaline from before boiling down into relieved laughter. The two of them set to work on creating entirely different elixirs—one to regrow the charcoal grass and another to replace goose feathers.

* * *

Ferb was exhausted by the time he made it to his room for the night. It had been a full day. His feet hurt from having to chase the irritated Gertrude around, and his arms hurt from holding the struggling creature down as his brother applied the feather-paste they'd spent a better part of the afternoon whipping up. He would sleep well.

His room was dim and cool, lit only by a candle on his desk, but that was how he liked it. He crossed to the wardrobe in the corner, opening the doors in search of his nightwear.

What little light there was in the space glinted back into his eyes as soon as he opened the doors—a reflection on pristine metal. He reached out for the blade piece of Excaliferb. It had to have been jostled and fallen over from where it usually sat, propped up in the back.

He found himself thinking about the sword often. More than he'd like to admit. He had dreams—vivid, daunting things, where he'd be faced with a problem, but at the last minute he would fall apart. Sometimes with the sword, and sometimes without.

He didn't like how much it bothered him. It bothered him that it bothered him so much, really. In the end, Malifishmirtz was defeated. That was what mattered. The core of his frustrations was simply that he couldn't understand. Why would the Lady of the Puddle seek him out, send them on their heroic quest for Excaliferb, then have them face Malifishmirtz in the heat of an epic battle… if the sword was going to break the second he raised it?

It was gallingly anticlimactic. So much so that it made him wonder if he had done something wrong. If it had been some shortcoming on his end that clashed with the legendary sword. He knew it wasn't possible for a sword to break of its own volition—of course swords didn't _have _volition—but Excaliferb was magical. He could tell the moment he tugged it from the stone.

Then he heard a sneeze, quiet and high-pitched, coming from what seemed to be right behind him. He started, swinging around, the broken sword in hand—but his room was empty.

Someone sniffed. A faint movement caught the corner of his eye, and his gaze fell to his pillow. It was occupied.

"Isabel?" he whispered.

The sprite turned over from where she lied, and he could see she was asleep. At least, it appeared she had_ been_ asleep. Now her eyes slowly fluttered open in that groggy, half-lidded way of those just waking.

"Ferbalot?" she yawned, slowly sitting up. Her hand drifted to her eyes. She tapped the tips of her toes together, looking around the room as if to gather her bearings before her gaze rested on him.

She smiled. He stared. She spoke; "I found you."

He nodded his head, his eyebrows furrowing; _yes you did, but why?_

She did the last thing he would have expected from the cheery sprite he'd traveled with a year ago; her smile wavered, and she burst into tears.

Ferb didn't have any experience with upset people, living a life largely dictated by the steadfast optimist that was Phineas, and he most definitely wasn't sure what to do to comfort a sobbing sprite whom he barely knew. He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to repress the waves of _awkward_ bubbling up inside of him.

A minute passed, and it became unbearable. He knew he had to do something. He did the only thing he could think to do; he grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her. Her lips trembled as she looked up to him, but she took the cloth with an attempt at an appreciative smile.

When she was in control again, he got the story. She told him how she was banished from the sprite camps because she'd helped a fawn with an injured hind leg, and how they didn't want her around because she was putting them at risk of discovery by Malifishmirtz.

When she got to the part about being banished because she was also being blamed for Excaliferb breaking, he felt his insides twist; that hadn't been her fault. He hoped it hadn't been anyone's fault, but if blame were to be placed anywhere, it most certainly would not have been on her. He'd have to shoulder that.

"And then she started going on about how I was too different, and didn't fit in. I guess I've always known it's true, but it's always been my home. I never realized that… that they didn't see me as at home with them. Now I'm homeless—or maybe I should say I'm just _realizing_ I'm homeless for the first time. Or maybe I'm just too caught up in the shock of it all to see clearly. Or maybe they really have some other reason for this, or maybe—"

Ferb cleared his throat, and she jumped. He pantomimed taking a deep breath. Her cheeks turned pink, but she followed his instructions. She hadn't breathed much the past few minutes.

"This is making sense to you so far, right?" she asked, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

He nodded.

"Good," she laughed humorlessly. "Maybe you could explain it to me, then."

There was a long silence before Ferb realized there was something he wanted to know.

He gestured around his room, then pointed to himself in a way that asked, _so why did you come here? Why did you find me?_

She rested her chin on the tops of her knees. "You jumped."

That only deepened his confusion. He must have looked pretty perplexed, because when she looked back up to his face, he almost got her to smile. Almost.

"I was so scared, Ferbalot. I'd just been kicked out of the only home I've known, while a crazy sorcerer was out for sprite blood. I hadn't been that scared since I was on that quest with you and Phineas, that moment when the cave entry collapsed on us.

"There'd been those terrifying few seconds—that instance of black, flash of red, and jab of pain. That blink of absolute disorientation as you come to grips with the cave in. That was what this was like."

"A complete collapse," he voiced, and her eyes shot back up to him in shock. "What? I am capable of speech, you know."

"I know," she sniffed, rubbing at her eyes. "It's just… surprising, somehow. I wasn't expecting it."

He gave her a look of sarcastic apology—_how dare I speak—_and gestured for her to go on. This time, he did get her to smile. It was tainted and forlorn still, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"I didn't know what to do. I had absolutely nowhere to go. But I knew we made it through that last moment of terror, and it got me thinking about our quest. I was thinking about when we were attacked by meatlings the first time, on that cliff. They kept growing bigger, and meaner, and we had no where to go."

Ferb nodded; regrettably, he remembered that all too well.

"I asked you to jump. You did."

She met his eyes, and he didn't hesitate to let his confusion continue to show.

"I asked you to trust me—Phineas, Baljeetolus, Bufavalous, and you. I asked you to trust me, and jump off the cliff. The others didn't want to. They turned around and were going to continue to fight, but you jumped. You didn't even hesitate; you just did, and the others followed you.

"You trusted me, Ferbalot, so… I don't know. I thought I could trust you." She'd gone through her whole miniature speech with her eyes on her toes, but finally she looked up at him.

For being the silent type, it was rare for him to be rendered speechless. He remembered what she was talking about. She'd asked him to do something absolutely crazy, and jump off a cliff. But he and his brother often performed the impossible; who was he to doubt that the little sprite could do the same?

It hadn't occurred to him that such a moment could have meant so much to her, though. Maybe because he'd always had the luxury of friends. Of having people around that cared about and believed in him, too. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be her.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's not fair of me to show up like this. I just felt… so unsafe out there, and I just needed… but I can go if you want me to. I know we don't know each other very well, and my reasoning for coming here must not make much sense, so—"

Ferb cut her off by raising his hands, waving them back and forth. He patted his pillow, giving her a sympathetic look that let her know she could stay. Something about seeing her so hurt… or maybe it was her unexpected belief in him… Regardless, how could he kick out an innocent little sprite to be hunted on the streets?

"I don't know if I could do that to you," she sniffed again, squeezing her arms around her legs even tighter. "Bad guys are looking for sprites, Ferbalot. I don't want to accidentally put your family in danger by staying here."

He pointed out the window, his expression skeptical.

"No, I don't know where else I'd go, but—"

His hand lashed out like she'd just proven his point.

"Are you sure? Do you mind?"

He shook his head.

She stared up at him, like she couldn't comprehend that. Maybe she needed some encouragement, something to let her know things could still be alright even if they had a nasty tendency to fall apart.

"Phineas will probably be thrilled, really," he hummed, but it didn't have the effect he expected. Her wings fluttered nervously. Her expression fell.

"You have to be careful who you tell, Ferbalot. There are so many threats out there—ones we can't even see, eyes and ears for Malifishmirtz. For the safety of your family, I have to remain as much of a secret as possible."

"Are you saying I can't tell Phineas?"

"No, no!" She quickly shook her head. "I know he's your brother, and I'd never want to create any issues there. I'm just saying… I have to remain secret. As long as Phineas can keep that secret, I think you can—"

"We can't tell Phineas."

She blinked. That hadn't been what she was expecting at all. "What?"

He smirked. "My brother can't keep a secret for his life. It defies his very nature."

She nodded, though out of uncertainty of where to go from there more so than as a confirmation. "So… this will stay our secret?"

He nodded.

"Because… you're letting me stay?"

He nodded again.

"Really?"

"You can stay here for a little while. Until you find a safe place to go."

* * *

_Review, please!_

_That's all for my first mass-posting. I'm all the way through chapter ten, so I will probably post a new chapter very quickly. I think the speed will depend entirely on the demand, so we'll see how that goes!_

_I've never written anything like this before, and let me tell you… this sucker is one monstrous story. If you want to stick around, it'll be a long haul of twists and turns. I digress… this is new territory for me, and constructive criticism is always welcome. Politeness is highly valued. Warm fuzzies are the best, of course. But I've never gone for an adventurous fantasy story, so I can guarantee you I'll stumble along the way. I am thrilled to try, though!_

_I hope you enjoyed the beginning of _Something in the Mist. _See you soon!_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	4. Anniversary

_Happy to see you guys! Don't worry; it was intended for you to be left scratching your heads after the prologue. Her banishment, and everything… well, all is not as it appears ^.^ _

_Also, I had some people ask about my partner. HeroXLink has been helping me get everything settled and is doing a lot of design work, but the writing itself is my prattling brain child (Lilly-Belle). I cannot tell you how much HeroXLink has helped out, though. It was my story, but it's our baby. She gets mondo props for it, too!_

_ Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER THREE:

Anniversary

* * *

"Does this diagram really depict what a sprite's wings look like when they're first born?" Ferb asked, holding the book up to Isabel, who was perched on his shoulder.

"Not even close," she laughed. "This is all swirly and colorful, like the surface of a bubble. In reality, a sprite's wings shimmer a light blue for the first few days as the wings fully harden."

"So the book was right when it said that sprite wings are made from hardened rain drops?"

She nodded. "See, a sprite is born during each rainstorm. The very first dew drop that hits the ground becomes the sprite's wings, which harden into what you see now." She fluttered her wings to accentuate her point, but the action only tickled his cheek with how close she was.

"And that's why a sprite's magic is in their wings, right? Because the raindrop is some connection to the Lady of the Lake?"

"Did the book actually get something right?" she scoffed playfully.

"If what I said was correct," he chuckled, turning the page.

"Yeah. The raindrop contains the essence of the Lady, which is why we can control water. Because our wings are made from the raindrop, and the raindrop is a small touch of her power, our wings are the source of our magic."

A solemnity swept through the room. Ferb's hand tightened on the book, and she could tell he wanted to ask something, but was holding himself back.

"What is it?" she sighed, and he blinked at her.

"What?"

"Something's bothering you," she decided. "So what is it?"

"I was just thinking…" He clasped his hands together in deliberation.

"I never know quite where you'll go when you start like that," she mumbled under her breath, but he ignored the comment.

"The whole kingdom knows sprites haven't exactly been seen anymore, but for them to be in hiding… that's what Malifishmirtz is after isn't it? He's taking your wings. He's taking your magic somehow, but it's all about your wings."

Isabel's legs stopped swinging at his words.

"Yes. I don't… I don't really like talking about it, but that's what Syneia said. He crushed them, or… I don't really know, but he stole their magic, and no one ever survives."

"And for every sprite he—"

"Becomes more powerful," she whispered, "but please, Ferb… I don't—I can't really talk about this anymore."

She leaned into the crux of his neck. He couldn't even imagine what it was like to be her right now—faced with the annihilation of the sprites, the shadowy rise of Malifishmirtz, her bizarre banishment, all this time she spent apart from her family… He couldn't blame her when he felt her tears against his skin.

"So why did the Lady of the Puddle send you to help us?" he ventured, hoping a change of topic would help her. "Two years ago, I mean. When we had our quest."

"Oh, Vanessa didn't send me," she sniffed. "It was more of—"

"Vanessa?" Ferb laughed. "I wasn't aware the Lady of the Puddle had an actual name."

Isabel eyed him impishly. "Considering who she's the daughter of, I wouldn't laugh. But she didn't choose me. That was the Mist Weavers' decision. Although, they told me it was at the command of the Lady of the Lake."

"The command of the Lady of the Lake?" Ferb scooped her off his shoulder, watching her with wide eyes. "You're one special sprite, aren't you…"

The way he said it told her it wasn't a question, but she scoffed darkly, bringing her legs to her chest in his palm.

"Yeah. Too special." She rested her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around them tightly. Ferb raised his eyebrow at her questioningly, but she shook her head. "So what else did the book botch about us sprites?"

Ferb's lips pursed at the less-than-subtle change of subject, but in the end he ignored it. He wouldn't push her. Not right now.

"It said the Mist Weavers were responsible for the change of seasons, and the rest of the sprites maintained nature cycles."

"That's true." Isabel rubbed at her eyes, looking up to meet the dark blue of Ferb's. "It must be so much more difficult now, having one less Mist Weaver to help out." Then she shook her head. She was trying to avoid that topic, not bring it up again. "But what else?"

"Oh, this I have to know about," he smiled, turning another page. "It says you can communicate with animals. What's that like? And when you talk to the animals, do you start making noises like the animal? How does it work?"

"Oh no," she giggled. "I bet you're picturing me clucking like a chicken, or mooing like a cow. Not cool."

"Maybe," he laughed, "but the questions still stand."

"Well, Ferbalot," she began, her voice filled with high levels of mock decorum, "once again that shoddy book has led you astray."

"Ferbalot? Astray?" he smirked, but only responded to her bon ton attitude with a shake of his head. "So you _can't_ talk to animals?"

"Well, we can _communicate,_ but not to the extent both the book and your crazy imagination would lead you to believe." Isabel felt the vice hold of her limbs loosening with the ease of his smile. "We understand animals really well, but it's mostly body language. We can soothe them, sympathize, bond with them, and whatnot, but _no,_ I don't start talking in chicken language."

"Alright, alright," he allowed, turning the page again. Isabel peered over the edge of his hand, looking down at the parchment. One half of the book had the picture of a sprite that looked surprisingly like Gevenora, with a long, sharp nose, high eyebrows, and dark hair. The face was disturbingly smooth—yet another similarity. "It says here sprites are notoriously terse and unemotional. I know this one isn't true."

"What?" Isabel reared back from her leaning position, looking up at his face again.

"What do you mean, 'What?'" he responded. "It's obvious it's not true."

"Actually… it is." Her gaze fell to her feet, which she stretched out in front of her until they almost reached his wrist. "That one… well, that's something that the book got right."

He blinked at her. Then his free hand moved up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I don't want to offend you or anything, but… you're not exactly what I would call unemotional." At his words, her hands fell to the end of her skirt, which she wrung nervously, but he wasn't finished. "I mean, terse I might give you from time to time, but _unemotional?_"

The last part was meant to be facetious and uplifting, but it only deepened her grimace.

"I know," she sighed. "You're completely right. But so am I when I say that the book isn't wrong. The entire sprite species is remarkably unemotional. They're all about duties, and… pragmatism."

"But you're… not," he stated, and so many things started to make sense. "Listen, when I said you were a special sprite, I—"

They were interrupted by the sound of his mother's voice, calling from down below for dinner.

"Go eat," Isabel commanded gently. "And spend some time with your brother after. Don't want him to grow suspicious about the increase in time you've spent with me."

"You sure?" he asked. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone in his room right now. She seemed to be having a more difficult time than usual today. She nodded to his question anyway.

"When you come back later, just make sure to bring me a slice of bread, or a bit of an apple, or something, alright?"

"If you say so. I'll leave the candle burning, okay?" He set her down on top of the book. With one more smile, he left, off to eat with his family.

Isabel watched him until he was gone, feeling her heart grow heavy. It wasn't that all the talk about sprites had made her homesick for her camp. Not in the slightest. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Hearing about the nature of spritely magic and how Malifishmirtz was after it reminded her just how dangerous it was to be of her species right now. That, in turn, reminded her of her original arrangement with Ferb.

_You can stay here for a little while. Until you find a safe place to go._

She'd been there for a year, and was astonished he'd let her stay that long. It definitely pressed against the phrase, 'a little while.' Though a time limit was never verbally established, she knew a whole year was pushing his generosity and tolerance with the endangerment of his family by her presence.

Her kind was being hunted. 'A short while' had long passed. But she didn't want to go anywhere.

Isabel spent a lot of time in Ferb's room. Though there were times when she could roam around other parts of the house, she stayed confined there when the others were home. Her eyes drifted along his bookshelf, but she knew she'd read everything on it before.

Then her gaze fell to the book on the desk, still sitting open on the page with the Gevenora look-alike. Well, she figured she had nothing better to do…

She flew over and uncapped Ferb's bottle of ink, dipping her hand in to get her fingers wet. Then she flew back over to the pages, crossing out things and writing all over, making her own corrections and adding details where the humans lacked. It was surprisingly cathartic.

She went page by page, editing and even doodling along the margins. She couldn't draw very well—especially when compared to some of the work she'd seen Ferb do—but she did her best. She just hoped he wouldn't be bothered by the moustache and beard she drew on the emotionless sprite picture…

It wasn't too long before she heard Phineas' voice from outback, and she flew to the window, looking down to see him and Ferb crowded around Phineas' alchemy table. The younger of the two brothers had delved into some elaborate monologue about the ingredients for a certain potion, and Isabel smiled.

The two boys made a great team. It was something she'd grown to admire about them.

A few times, she snuck out of the house. It was never by herself—not when she knew she'd be putting the boys' family at risk if she were seen—but she would have gone crazy being cooped up indefinitely.

She only went out at night, sticking to the backyard, and just at times when Ferb could sneak out with her. She would lie down on his head and stare at the stars from under his hood, or sit in the grass, stretching along the roots of their tree while his leg blocked her from view.

She watched them for a while before drifting back to her editing process. If there was one thing that year had taught her, it was patience. She waited for a few marks, until the sun fell and the house began to grow quiet. Once it did, Ferb finally returned.

He slid into the room, closing the door behind him. Without a word, he crossed over, scooping her up and bringing her to his chest in what was the closest thing he could manage to a hug.

"Ferb, I have ink on me!" she cried, and he pulled her back, looking down at the smudge of black now streaked across his shirt.

"I don't care," he replied, his voice a mere whisper, but heavier than it was earlier. "I'm sorry Isabel. I didn't even realize… I'm such an idiot."

"You're sorry? What are you apologizing for?"

"I completely forgot. One year ago today… it's been a year since you were banished. I should have come back right after dinner. I should have… you know, been here for you."

Isabel clasped her hands together, her wings fluttering once with his words. "It's okay. It's not… Well, it's not like I was trying to remember, anyway."

"Still, you're my friend. I should have known…" He shook his head, but then he finally seemed to register the splotches of black that were speckled up her arms. "Why do you have ink on you?"

"I was bored," she laughed, gesturing halfheartedly to the book on the desk. Ferb crossed his room and peered at the item, his usual smirk slowly capturing his lips. "Hope you don't mind."

"You kidding?" He looked back at her. "Sprites are probably the most secretive species. Now it's like I have my own guide." He crossed over to his bed, pulling his shirt over his head and falling back over the thick blanket. "One that's actually correct, that is."

"Well, you're welcome then." Isabel flew over, about to sit on his pillow, but then she remembered the ink still on her hands. "Do you have a rag I could use? I wasn't really thinking ahead when I first started writing."

In response, Ferb handed her his shirt.

"Oh, no, Ferb, I couldn't! I don't want to ruin—"

"It already has ink on it. A little more won't make a difference." She made a sour, defiant face, and he laughed. "Besides, knowing Phineas, he could probably whip up some potion to remove even the indelible. It's fine."

He pressed the cloth closer to her. She hesitated, but after meeting his eyes again, she took it. Once the ink was removed from her skin, Ferb tossed the shirt across the room and adjusted so his head was on his pillow. Isabel plopped down next to him.

"I appreciate what you said when you first came in," she said. "About wanting to be here for me. And… the part about you being my friend."

He didn't say anything—something she was used to with Ferb. He typically preferred actions to words. When around Phineas, he let his brother do all the talking. She figured he knew she'd be starving for interaction by the time he made it to his room again, though, and thus he never failed to talk to her. In fact, he was surprisingly unreserved with his words around her compared to what she saw of him from other people. But he was never afraid of silence.

"You're my friend, too, you know," she sighed after a while. "It may seem kind of sad, but you're the closest friend I've ever had."

He held his hand out to her, and she wrapped her arms around one of his fingers. He still remained mute, but she didn't mind; it was quiet moments like these that made her feel like she was home.

Which… was a dangerous thought process. She did feel like she was home there, but she'd long overstayed her due. Ferb was probably too sweet to kick her out, but what could she expect from him? He couldn't keep feeding her, hiding her, putting up with her—and she couldn't keep putting them at risk by harboring a sprite.

No matter how much she wanted to stay.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, and she realized she'd been squeezing his fingers a little too tightly.

She didn't want to lie to him, so she just shook her head.

"What did you mean when you said you were too special earlier?"

"Hm?" she met his gaze, his eyes shining with a gravity that wasn't there before.

"Earlier, when I said you were a special sprite. You said you were too special. What did you mean?"

His serious expression bore into hers, and she let out a puff of air.

"When Syneia banished me a year ago, she was all too vocal about how different I was. She said that by sending me on the quest, she hoped to… I don't know, _normify _me. Get me to live like the rest of the sprites, following my duty and fitting in." She squeezed her eyes shut. "If I'm special, it's not in a good way."

"It's in the best way," Ferb corrected her. He held her gaze for just a moment before it returned to the ceiling. "It's hard to believe you didn't fit in. You're too nice. Compassionate. Funny."

"I'm not lying. I wasn't wanted around all that much," she sighed, wiping at her eyes. "Sprites aren't prone to emotion. Everyone else in my camp… they never…" She bit her lip, sniffing. "I was always criticized because I would do things like help an animal, or laugh too much, or—"

"You got in trouble for laughing too much?" he exhaled, his indignation creeping into the set of his eyebrows. "That's terrible."

"Well, they said it was for always getting distracted. Laughing, exploring, becoming upset—anything that made me feel alive, really. They said it was distracting me from my duties. That's all the others care about. That's all sprites are _supposed_ to care about."

"All except you."

"Exactly." She lied back, turning on her side to still face him. "I think that's the real reason I was banished. I was too different."

"Don't you think that's a good thing? I mean, you've got the best laugh. I can't imagine you as just another emotionless worker sprite."

She blinked at him. He smiled, but her frown only deepened. Had he said something wrong? He didn't think he had…

"Hey," he soothed, pulling his finger free from her arms to cup his hand around her form. "Hey, you know I meant that as—"

"Yeah… I know." She pressed into the curve of his palm, curling in on herself.

"Then what is it?"

"I just…" she bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm going to miss this, that's all."

"What?" he snapped. Ferb sat up so quickly Isabel almost fell off the side of his pillow.

"Shhh," she sat up too, her arms flailing in a quieting gesture. "Someone could have heard you."

"What do you mean you're going to miss this?" he demanded, ignoring her warning.

She clasped her hands together, staring at her feet. She tapped the tips of her toes together once, twice.

"I mean, I'm sure wherever I end up, I probably will never find anyone who's as nice to me as you are. I'll miss you."

He looked away, his gaze drifting to the window. "I didn't know you were leaving. Where will you go?"

She flew up to his shoulder, her hand small as she pressed it to his cheek.

"Well, of course I'm leaving," she whispered. "I don't know exactly where I'll go, but I can't expect you to… When I first showed up, you said I could stay a little while. That's what we agreed on, so—"

"You expect me to send you out there when some crazy sorcerer is waiting to rip your wings off?"

Isabel cringed at the bluntness of his words, flying back a few inches, but she refused to let her words falter. "You've already done so much for me. I wouldn't want to—"

"Live where you can laugh? Or cry, or inquire, or whatever else you want to do that sprites aren't supposed to?" He finally looked back at her, and she was surprised by the fierceness of his gaze. "Aren't you happy here?"

"Am I happy?" she almost laughed. "Ferb, of course I'm happy here. Watching you and Phineas in the backyard making things from the window everyday, talking to you every night—I love it here."

He nodded, moving to lie back down again. Isabel hovered over his chest until he held his hand out. She flew onto it, sitting in the middle of his palm. He brought her to his eye level.

"Isabel, I never said you had to leave. I know we said you'd only be here for a little while, but that was a whole year ago. That was when we were practically strangers. Now we're practically family. I don't want you going anywhere."

She stared at him, tears pooling up along the ridges of her eyes. If she swallowed, she knew they'd spill over, so she spoke instead.

"It's dangerous harboring a sprite."

In response, he shrugged, and she swayed with the movement. "You've lived in this house for a year without the people living here finding out. I don't think we have to worry about Malifishmirtz too much."

She let herself smile, daring to hope that this wasn't too good to be true. That she could have possibly found a new home. She fell sideways, stretching out on his hand before curling up into a sleeping position, but she never let her eyes leave his.

"So… that means I can stay?"

He smiled, depositing the little sprite on the pillow and letting her wrap her arms around his finger again.

"As long as you want."

* * *

_Hope you have an awesome day! ^.^_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	5. Of Threats and Fairies

_So for those who have started following this, thank you so much! This is intended to be a massive, plot-driven tale reminiscent of Kircher-Asche's _The Seer. _Perhaps that's overzealous of me, but that's the plan. I have giant storyboards strung up across my room. It's kind of a secret project, though, so I've written all of the plot points and everything in mirror writing like DaVinci used to do with his secret journals XD I swear my parents think I'm in some strange cult or something. I said "yes, yes I am… and it's called Fandoming."_

_I'm weird like that; I can write forward and backward with both hands (both individually, at the same time going in the same direction, or one forward and one backward at the same time symmetrically), but I write better forward with my right hand and better backwards with my left hand. My old psyche teacher called me a freak. Apparently I can rapid-fire cross my corpus callosum. "Perpetually middle-brained."_

_But enough randomness about me and my weird randomness XD I hope you enjoy Chapter Four! Now things start happening!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR:

Of Threats and Fairies

* * *

Phineas shaded the sun from his eyes, squinting in concentration as he honed his vision on a pair of men across the town square. He could swear he'd seen one of them before…

"How much did you say this was, young man?" a robust woman demanded, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Ten silver pieces," he responded. "Guaranteed to bring new life to any ailing garden. Especially one with carrots or cabbage, though it works well with other vegetables, too."

"Five silver pieces."

"Usually I sell this potion for fifteen, but I'm in a hurry today. Ten silver, ma'am. I'm afraid I can't go any lower."

Phineas always hated haggling. It was against his nature. If he had it his way, he'd just give away his concoctions to whoever needed them, but his mom and dad appreciated the extra income they provided.

The woman sighed before nodding and digging into her purse. She produced ten silver pieces, and he held out the vile, the light green liquid catching the light in the most becoming of ways.

"Aren't you a little young to be an alchemist?" she sneered as they made the exchange.

"Yes. Yes I am," he laughed. "I get that a lot."

"A boy your age has no place in a market. Twelve, or so. You need a little more greening before you come out to do business." She put the vile in her bag, grumbling, "_ten silver pieces…"_

"I'm fourteen, ma'am," he corrected her, but that was as far as he'd let the interaction go. His eyes kept darting to the men he'd been watching, and he had no time to handle difficult customers who were too stingy to pay ten silver pieces for a harvest of goods. He scooped the remaining potions back into his satchel before departing with a cordiale, "good den."

Walking briskly away from the cranky woman, Phineas' eyes were plastered on one of the men. As he got closer, his suspicions grew heavier, and he pressed tighter along the edge of the buildings to remain unseen.

The man he was focused on was shorter than the other, a long, dark brown traveling cloak covering everything but his face. A scraggly, black beard tumbled out the bottom, and his eyebrows were heavy. Under his left eye was a scar. Phineas couldn't tell if the man was displeased with the conversation, or just had the kind of structure that made him look perpetually irritable, but he wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter.

It was the shepherd spy. It was the man about whom Bufavalous had warned him so long ago, at the Inn of the Prancing Platypus. He was almost sure of it.

The other man—far more regal-looking than his rugged companion—put his hand on the spy's shoulder, his eyes sweeping across the streets with a suspicious glare. He pushed the spy on, probably looking for somewhere more private.

Phineas didn't like the look of it. There'd been rumors ripping through the kingdom that Malifishmirtz was rising again. Some said he was out of magic since his initial defeat. Some said he'd only been faking that, lulling the kingdom into a false sense of hope before he struck. The hopeful ones asserted that there was a chance he was dead, since the sorcerer wasn't really the type to work from the shadows.

The only common thread to the whisperings was the notion that Malifishmirtz was going after sprites. Why, he wasn't sure, but the little creatures had all but disappeared from the gardens and fields.

If Malifishmirtz's best spies were now stalking the edges of towns, whispering with powerful-looking men in secret… well, he was positive it wasn't a good thing.

His curious side overruled all common sense, and he followed the figures, creeping down alleyways and hugging the sides of walls to remain unseen. He was almost close enough to hear what they were saying…

Then a hand covered his mouth, an arm wrapping around him and dragging him farther back in the alley. He thrashed and struggled, his heart pounding in his ears much too suddenly—and then they spoke.

"Phineas, don't you know better than to spy on people?"

The hand left his mouth, and he turned around.

"Candavere?"

His sister, still taller than him by just a few inches, smiled down at him. Then her expression grew serious again.

"It's dangerous spying on people these days."

"But weren't you spying on me just now?" he smiled.

"It doesn't count when I'm following my little brother," she scoffed. "No one knows what's going on. It's best to keep our noses down, and—"

"And our ears sharp," he cut his sister off. "Listen, Candavere, I recognize one of those men. He used to work for Malifishmirtz."

"As if we needed any other reason to turn away and mind our own business."

"You just said no one knows what's going on. This is our chance to figure some things out."

"Phineas—"

He shushed his sister, turning around and heading back down the gap between buildings before she could say another word.

He heard Candavere spluttering and stomping her feet behind him, but a moment later, she was by his side, peering around the corner at the two men. They were close enough now to hear their words.

"…it will be on _your _head, peasant," the richer man growled. His accent definitely wasn't from these parts. Phineas thought he recognized it from maybe the southern region, deep and elegant. "If that fairy isn't found, we all suffer. Do you hear me?"

Candavere's hand fell to his shoulder, and she squeezed. That was quite the sentence to come in to the conversation on. A fairy?

"I know, _sir_," replied the spy, spitting the last word like _sir_ was the farthest thing from his mind when addressing the other. "And you know I respect the Master's word, but… you know as well as I do that this command is simply impossible to follow. One cannot find a fairy if _there are no fairies._ Is that what all of this has been about? Is that why he has us hunting for sprite camps?"

"It is not your place to question," snapped the nobleman. "We are still searching for sprites. Finding the camps is our highest priority, but that is only the beginning." He sniffed, his lips pursing in disgust. "But I don't expect such a feeble mind to understand the intricacies of ulterior motives."

The spy straightened to his fullest height. "I am one of the Master's most trusted informers. I'd be careful just what you say about—"

"An informer?" the other laughed. "How quant. Meanwhile, I am his right-hand man. I am the one overseeing everything, while you are merely the errand boy, running Malifishmirtz's orders to the rest of his men. I'd be careful of what _you _say." He smiled slightly, then slurred, "_peasant._"

"Of course, sir," the spy grumbled, slumping back down to his previous stature. Even from this distance, Phineas could see his fingers grasped a little too tightly around his shepherd's cane. "But the men won't like this."

"It is not their place to—"

"I simply mean they won't be likely to dedicate themselves fully to the Master's new commands to hunt down and kill a fairy when the last fairy was killed over a decade ago. How are we supposed to hunt what doesn't exist?"

"Malifishmirtz has his ways of knowing of fairy magic. He told me he suspects there's one alive, and that's good enough for me." He raised his eyebrow, the simple motion speaking volumes of _threat. _"It should be good enough for all of those that serve him."

The spy considered his words, his gaze falling to the dirt. "Alright. I'll start spreading the word that we must find and kill a fairy."

"Good," the nobleman replied. "I'll leave you to it."

He turned as if to leave, but the spy reached out and took his arm.

"Wait. If I'm going to convince the men that this new task is of any importance, there's something I need to know."

The nobleman jerked free from his grasp, his nose wrinkling in revulsion, but he stopped nonetheless.

"What?"

"What's so special about a fairy? I mean, if the Master can grow more powerful by going after sprites, why would he waste—"

"_Waste?_"

"Er, _spend_," he amended at the nobleman's sour face, "so much time and resources looking for a fairy? What does it matter?"

"Such information skates far above the bottom of the barrel where you dwell," he sneered. "Though, I do suppose any good soldier needs a way to rally the men. _My _men, mind you," he smirked. "Spread the word that, without a fairy, Malifishmirtz will never be defeated. Let that inspire you, in all your lowly ways."

Phineas looked up, meeting Candace's eyes. Her expression mirrored his perfectly: confusion, panic, and a little bit of fear.

What did they just stumble upon? Talk of fairies? And that last bit… if Phineas didn't know any better, it almost seemed like the nobleman knew something of the future. Malifishmirtz wouldn't be defeated without a fairy? If that were true… well, that didn't bode very well. In fact, it meant things were boding terribly.

Then the nobleman turned the corner and ran right into them. He bounced back a little, startled by their sudden proximity, and the Flynn siblings jerked back, too.

"What the—" he spluttered, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and anger. "What are you kids…"

"Busted," Candavere hissed into his ear, but Phineas shrugged her off. He'd have to think fast.

"You're right, Gertrude," he said loudly, "I think this is the nobleman the whole town has been aglow over."

The man didn't look impressed. Phineas must not have sold it very well. Sold it… He had an idea.

"Good morrow, fine sir!" Phineas bellowed, bowing low before taking his hand. "How are you this fine day? When we heard rumor that a wealthy man of your stature was around, we took it upon ourselves to come find you."

"What are you—" the man began, but Phineas quickly cut him off. He just hoped his sister was controlling her expression during all of this...

"Why, I stand before you with the greatest deals you'll find south of Lake Hymn." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of potions. "These are of my very own invention! Hair loss? Tough stains? Just the smallest amount, and—"

"Peddlers," the man growled. Before Phineas knew what had happened, he was pressed against the wall, the man's elbow in his chest. "Keep your cheap products and filth away from me."

With that, he stormed past and was gone.

Phineas fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him by the stranger's assault, but he wasn't complaining. Everything about that man had screamed _vicious_. A shove and a bruise was definitely something he could live with.

"Have I mentioned I'm happy that you're so smart?" Candavere breathed, leaning over to help him stand.

"Thanks," he wheezed, on his feet again, but leaning over his knees. "I appreciate it."

"Good," his sister huffed. "Now that I've said it, let me start to chastise you about how _stupid_ you are! Didn't I tell you this was—"

"Thanks," he repeated, waving her off. "I get it."

They fell into silence.

Neither needed to point out just how big the conversation they'd heard was. Malifishmirtz _was _on the rise. He had a network of men working for him, which was news to them. He was apparently not only hunting sprites, but he was looking for a fairy. A _fairy_, who was not only somehow alive, but… needed for his defeat?

"Phin, we shouldn't stick around. He could decide to come back."

For once, Phineas was in agreement with his sister.

"Alright. Let's go."

* * *

The spoon brushed the tips of Ferb's fingers before it clattered to the ground. He sighed at his blunder of coordination and picked it up.

"You don't think we have to wash it again, do you?" he ventured, wiping it on the cloth draped over his shoulder. Isabel danced around the counter next to the sink, beaming up at him despite the fact she was drenched head to foot in water and soapy bubbles.

"Nah," she giggled, "I think you're good."

To any normal teenager, cleaning dishes was a horrible burden. However, in times like these, when he and the little sprite were the only ones home, that attitude was the farthest from their minds.

As Ferb stepped back from the sink, he couldn't keep himself from smiling. Isabel beamed as she unloaded another utensil from the pile of dishes they'd just cleaned and dragged it towards the wall, along the ledge that wove around the back of the wash basin.

"You going to be ready this time, Fletcher?" she teased, lining the spoon up straight along the edge, aiming it right in his direction.

Ferb chuckled under his breath, taking another step back as Isabel pushed the round edge off the counter just a little, leaving it hanging above the bubbly surface of the water.

He nodded, his smile growing even wider. She took a few steps back from the counter. Grinning excitedly, she launched upward. The warm air of the kitchen slid past her wings, and after a mere second of being airborne, she plummeted towards the end of the spoon. Isabel's feet collided with the wooden object and it spiraled into the air. She couldn't watch its flight, though; her momentum sent her into the water underneath it with a _plunk_.

Ferb slid to the side and stretched his hand out to catch the flying utensil. He was laughing the entire time, anticipating when Isabel's head would emerge from the soap water. She brushed bubbles from her face and forced her hair back, but her laughter mixed with his as soon as she broke the surface.

"You caught it!" she exclaimed, her smile widening. Shooting out of the water, Isabel flew up to the counter again and plopped down on the edge, her feet swinging back and forth in her glee.

"Third time's the charm," replied Ferb, starting his task of drying and putting the utensil in a drawer.

"Uh huh," Isabel giggled. "So what's your excuse for all the other times you missed these past three years, hm?"

Ferb smirked, flicking the cloth in his hands at her, but she flew out of the way.

"Yet another miss," she sang, crossing the counter to grab another utensil. "But that's okay. We've got an entire pile here. Plenty of chances to redeem yourself."

The two of them continued their little game until almost all the dishes were done. By then, even Ferb had suds in his hair, and water was splattered here and there from the flying kitchenware, but he didn't mind. This was the reason he always stayed home while his brother ran errands in the market; with Isabel, chores were always a blast.

As Ferb scrubbed away at the final dish—a large pot his mother used for dinner every night—Isabel sat on the handle. Games aside, they had quite the system. She was a water sprite, so she had no trouble making of the water flow up from the basin and swirl around the pot. It was familiar, routine, and comfortable.

Neither of them thought much of it until the door leading to the backyard was suddenly thrown open.

Ferb nearly dropped the pot at the noise, stumbling and fumbling in a bizarre juggling act before regaining his grip and holding it against his chest. Phineas strolled in, which was to be expected, but Candavere followed.

That… most certainly had not been expected.

Candavere was nineteen, and had been married to Jeremiad for two years. It wasn't often she came home, but whenever she did, Ferb was always on edge. Although older and more mature now, she still had that same anxious, curiously overbearing, sisterly side to her.

Ferb reckoned that—although he was certain she didn't know any specifics—Candavere suspected he had been keeping a secret from them for a while. She would sneak around, come in at random times, and the like, all in the name of 'gathering evidence' for their mother.

There were far more close calls than he wanted to admit, but they always held on to their secret by just a hair—some distraction with uncanny timing, or Isabel managing to slip out of sight at just the last second.

Isabel!

Ferb's eyes swept around the room, his mouth going dry. _Where was she? _His eyes fell back to the sink. She didn't dive into the water, did she? The image of Isabel slowing turning blue as she held her breath filled his mind, and he tried not to cringe. He really hoped not.

"There you are, Ferbalot," his sister greeted, and he would have looked further into her flustered demeanor, but his eyes scanned the water, looking for any trace of the sprite.

"You okay, Ferb?" his brother questioned, now standing beside him.

As Ferb nodded he felt something poke his stomach, and he almost smiled. Taking a step away from his brother toward the side of the basin to grab the cloth he'd been using earlier, Ferb tilted the pan back, just barely. He caught a glimpse of Isabel crouching inside. She smiled up at him, trying not to laugh at their dumb luck.

Taking in his sister's careful gaze, though, he quickly returned the pot to its previous angle, hiding the sprite from his sibling's view once again. He gave his brother a look he knew he'd understand; _what's going on?_

Phineas set his shoulder bag down on the table, tossing his hat down next to it, but crossed back over so that all three of them were crowding around the island. Ferb kept the pan close, fighting the urge already pulling his eyes back down to the little sprite. It was difficult to miss the odd atmosphere, though, so that made focusing on other things easier. Something had clearly happened while they were out.

"You will not believe what Candavere and I overheard in town today," Phineas began, his voice already pitching into his usual storytelling tone.

"What _Phineas_ overheard today," their sister corrected sharply, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Phineas glared at her impishly. "You were standing right next to me!"

"Only because I was trying to stop you from getting into serious trouble!"

"Technicalities," he replied, waving his hand at her dismissively.

"You had no idea who those men were, Phineas," retorted Candavere, her tone falling to a gravelly harshness. "With all of the rumors going around about a threat, I would think a genius like you would have the brains not to do something so… so _foolish!_"

Ferb leaned against the counter, watching the interaction with confusion and amusement. He glanced down at Isabel, taking advantage of his sibling's distraction to shoot her a look that said, _can you believe these two? _She covered her mouth with both hands to keep in her laughter.

"I told you," Phineas sighed, "I recognized one of them as the shepherd spy we encountered on our quest… what was it? Four years ago? It was him, Candavere. I know it was!"

Ferb started. He tapped his brother's shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing and his head lilting to the side; _you saw the shepherd spy? _

"Yeah," Phineas nodded, pleased to have someone know what he was talking about. "It was the same man we saw at the Inn of the Prancing Platypus. He was having a row with—"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Candavere exploded, stepping in front of the youngest of the three. "You knew he was one of Malifishmirtz's men, and you decided to eavesdrop on his conversation anyway. Do you even understand how mad that sounds? How dangerous? That man could have—"

"Are you telling me that it doesn't seem curious for Malifishmirtz's best spy to be in an argument with a _nobleman_ in our village? Not just a nobleman, but his _right-hand man!_"

"Curious? Yes," Candavere conceded, but her arms didn't untighten. Her face remained stern. "Any of our business? No. You seriously—"

"How is the fall of Malifishmirtz not any of our business?" Phineas cut her off, bouncing on his toes twice with his usual dynamic energy. "We were involved with his fall the first time. If we can somehow help again, why wouldn't we?"

Ferb put his hand on his brother's shoulder, his expression demanding that he explain what they were talking about, but before Phineas could begin, Candavere continued her rant.

"You want to bring up the first time? I was breathing fire for a month, Phineas! A _month. _And I don't want to see you guys go through that again. Bad enough last time, getting dragged across the kingdom by a sprite, dealing with trolls and swamps, and putting yourselves in danger. This time, I want my brothers to stay safe!"

It was stupid, but Ferb's eyes shot down at his sister's mention of Isabel. He wondered how Candavere would feel if she knew the same sprite was only a couple feet from her. Isabel met his gaze, but all she had to offer was a confused shrug.

"You heard what he said about the fairy though!" Phineas countered, swinging his arms up and clamping his hands on his sister's shoulders. "That was important! In fact, that was more than important! I mean, a _fairy?_"

"And you heard the spy guy—the _peasant,_" she corrected, shaking her head, "because _spy _is just ridiculous. But he was right; there are no fairies alive."

"But—"

"I remember the last time a fairy was born. Mom was still pregnant with you when Malifishmirtz killed it. There are no fairies, Phin. It's impossible."

The fight went away from Phineas in the blink of an eye, replaced by the same excitement Ferb saw of him every morning in their backyard. A glint of wonder and inquiry shining in his eyes, Phineas smiled at his sister. "Nothing is impossible, Candavere."

Candavere smacked his hands off, gearing up for an impassioned retort, but Ferb couldn't take it anymore.

"What are you talking about?" he called over them both, bringing the side of the pan against the top of the counter. He'd have to apologize to Isabel for that later, but it worked. Both his siblings jumped, staring at him in surprise.

"Oh… sorry Ferb," Phineas laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess we should start at the beginning, huh?"

"The beginning would be good," Ferb agreed, smirking as his brother crossed over to the table. Phineas threw himself into one of the chairs. His hands shuffled through his red hair once before he grabbed his hat, sliding it back on. Redirecting his attention to Ferb, he beamed.

"Guess what we overheard..."

* * *

"I can't believe you pounded me against the counter!" Isabel hissed, sitting on Ferb's windowsill. Her eyes were glued to the tree in their backyard, but her smirk was reserved for the boy behind her.

"I told you I didn't mean to," he whispered back, tugging his sleep shirt on. "They just kept bickering, and I forgot you were in there."

"How could you forget I was in there?" she laughed. "I mean… You've kept this secret for three years, and you just happen to forget I'm hiding the pot you're holding?"

"Saying I'm sorry again won't do me any good, would it?" he sighed, and she giggled.

"Nope. But you can make it up to me by going out back with me sometime this week. I want to stretch out in the grass."

"I think I can do that," he smiled, though she didn't see it. Which reminded him… "You can turn around now. I'm dressed."

Isabel didn't turn around. Instead, Ferb watched as she curled her arms around her legs. Her shoulders slumped.

"Bel?"

No response.

He crossed over to her, falling to his knees and laying his elbows on the ledge where she sat. He didn't speak, though. He knew hearing about Malifishmirtz today must have been difficult for her. She'd talk to him when she was ready.

After a few minutes she finally looked at him. "It's the fairy thing."

He nodded. He understood her confusion—the same confusion felt by his siblings, and even by Malifishmirtz's own men; there were no fairies. Not anymore.

"Every sprite grew up with stories of fairies. They were our kin. They served the Lady of the Lake just like sprites did. They used magic, and were similar in so many ways, and we were taught about their role and the nature of their abilities. I just don't understand what fairies have to do with anything."

"Or why it sounded like a fairy was needed to defeat Malifishmirtz," Ferb added on. It was her turn to nod.

"There aren't any fairies alive, Ferb. Syneia mentioned once that they were hunted down by the Malifishmirtz line long ago, and whenever one is born these days, the sorcerer makes sure to take care of the issue immediately."

"I don't really know much about the difference between the two, but it sounds like he's doing the same thing to the sprites now as his family did to the fairies—wiping them out."

Isabel buried her face in her arms. "Please don't say that," she whimpered.

"I'm sorry, Isabel. I just… this seems important. If Malifishmirtz thinks fairies are a threat, then there must be a reason for it. What do you know about them?"

Isabel took a quivering breath, but pulled her head up. "Not much," she admitted. "I mean, we heard stories about fairies. Like sprites, they're born with the first dewdrop of a storm, which then hardens into their wings, but fairies are different. A sprite is born with each storm. A fairy is born when the first rainfall of a new season coincides with a rainbow."

"Which, I take it, is far more rare," Ferb ventured. He figured he was right, since Isabel scoffed.

"And easily recognizable. A dead giveaway for the birth of a fairy."

"Which is how Malifishmirtz knew to hunt one. But why would he even bother? Did he steal their magic like he is with—" Ferb bit his tongue. Isabel didn't need more reminders. Not that he actually need to finish for her to know what he was talking about.

"I don't know. The Mist Weavers never went into details. I would guess that was what he was after. I mean, it would make sense. Fairies have really strong magic. Far more so than the sprites. I can make water swirl around a pot; fairies could practically control nature itself. It'd make sense that that could be what was fueling their family's magic for so long."

"And there hasn't been a fairy born lately, has there?" he asked.

"No. There hasn't been a fairy as long as I've been alive. I don't even know how long it had been before that. Like you said, they're rare, but they live a really long time—far longer than any human." She let out a puff of air. "At least, they _would_ live for a really long time if they were… If there were any."

They let that percolate in the air between them, each trying to devour the idea.

"And there couldn't have been a fairy born without the signs?" Ferb tried. "There's no way that a fairy has somehow survived, or something?"

Isabel shook her head. "First rainfall of the season and a rainbow. That's the only way they're born. The light is captured in their wings, and their magic becomes a part of them. And any fairy born has been killed. Your sister was right; it's impossible."

Ferb figured that was probably correct. Malifishmirtz was crazy, and the nobleman from the town earlier undoubtedly was, too. He had heard that fairies were extinct. The Mist Weavers supported that claim.

She scooted over to lean against his arm, and they stared out the window for a while. He knew they'd both been thinking the same thing; _how many impossibilities had occurred in their backyard alone?_

"Well… _improbable_," she amended. She left it at that.

Another minute passed before she stood, turning toward him. She gave him a half-convincing smile. He returned it fully, laying his head down on his arms. He meant it as an invitation—which was good, since that was how she took it. She flew to the top of his head, sprawling out over his hair.

They stayed that way for a long while. He reckoned she'd fallen asleep on him; that happened often. She surprised him when she spoke.

"Do you agree with Phineas?" she asked. "The part about defeating Malifishmirtz now. Would you want to quest again? Try to rout him, and whatnot?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. He thought it would be a simple answer. If there was a way he could help the kingdom, he'd want to. There was no doubt in his mind as to that fact. But there _was_ doubt in his mind. Last time, their quest didn't exactly go as they had planned… Victory or not, it was difficult for him to forget how it ended.

"You're thinking about Excaliferb, aren't you?" she hummed, and he smirked.

"How'd you know?"

"I know you," she stated matter-of-factly. He felt her turn over, brushing strands of his hair in every direction. "I still think you'd go, though. Despite your hesitation—broken sword or not."

"Well what about you?" he countered. "If you had the opportunity for another quest, would you take it?"

She was quiet for longer than he expected, but in the end, she did answer.

"Only if you'd come with me."

They fell into a comfortable silence. After some time, he felt her tug on a strand of his hair, curling up and murmuring something nonsensical, and he knew she'd actually fallen asleep. It was a shame, really; he had an answer to her question.

"Only if you'd come with me, too," he sighed.

He stayed there for a few more minutes. He didn't even want to know how late it was, though. He didn't want his mother's suspicious reprimands for being so tired, and all the questions that inevitably followed. He should go to sleep.

He slid the little sprite into his hand. She tossed and mumbled something, but grew quiet again in his palm. He stood and returned to his bed, setting Isabel down on his pillow and covering her with the handkerchief that had acted as her blanket for years. He followed suit, happy to stretch out under a large, quilted throw.

His mind still whirred with everything he'd learned from his brother that day—spies and noblemen, threats and fairies—but tried to quiet his thoughts as much as possible. Watching Isabel's sleeping form, with the rise and fall of her breaths, was soothing. He yawned. His eyelids grew heavier.

Malifishmirtz would have to be a problem for time.

* * *

_Review, please! This story is a smidge slow in the uptake, but I'm hoping it'll pick up once I get a good chunk of it out. Expositions to giant fantasy works are often __dreary. To those who have already gotten involved anyway, your comments make my day! I love seeing your predictions and thoughts!_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	6. The Festival

_Hello there! This was another quick update, and a whopping 15-pager! Woo hoo! Don't expect such swiftness for the whole piece, but I just finished twelve, and completely blocked out through sixteen, so I though I could post this for you!_

_Also, how are you guys feeling about length? I'm averaging around 12 pages per chapter, though this one is more. Not too long? I'd prefer this length, but I want to make sure it's not too long for you guys. I have a 17-pager in here somewhere XD Maybe six or eight, I can't remember. So long as I don't lose you guys! ^.^_

_Hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE:

The Festival

* * *

"Come on, Ferb," Isabel begged, fluttering right in front of his face as he pulled on his boots. "Please, please, please let me come with you. _Please!_"

Ferb sighed. "I don't see why you'd want to, Isabel. It's just the Midsummer Woad-Gathering Harvest. It's not a big deal."

"It's a festival!" she refuted. "Of course it's a big deal!"

"Not unless you're some love-struck teenage girl looking for a courting match," he laughed. "Otherwise it's just like the market any other day, really."

"Well… I am a teenager, and I'm a girl. That has to count for something, right?"

His eyebrows rose, a teasing smile spreading on his face. "Are you trying to tell me you're looking for a courting match?"

Isabel stared at him, feeling her face grow hot. She slung her hands to her hips, sticking her lower lip out defiantly. "No! I—of course not!"

They were interrupted by a pounding on Ferb's bedroom door, and Isabel dove into the fabric of his hood.

"Ferbalot, dear," came his mother's voice. A second later, she was opening the door, peeking her head in. "We're leaving in less than a quarter of a mark. Will you be ready?"

Ferb gave her a thumbs up, to which Lindavahle smiled before leaving. When she was gone, his shoulders slumped.

"Speaking of courting matches…" he grumbled, running a hand over his eyes. When he brought it back down to his side, Isabel was in front of him again.

"Is she still giving you a hard time?" she asked, flitting closer and putting her hand on his cheek.

"Increasingly," he sighed. Then he shook his head. "But we're not talking about my mother's insane determination to marry me off. We were talking about your crazy idea to come with us to the festival. I thought the whole point of the past six years was to remain hidden."

"I know." Her wings fluttered irregularly, and she looked down. "I just… it's something different, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong; I love it here. Being with you, and having a home and everything…"

"You just need a change," he mused.

"A little more excitement than last minute hood-escapes when your mother knocks on the door," she laughed. "And I'll still be hidden. I can be in your hood or shirt pocket. Either way, your cloak will protect me."

"I don't know…"

"Please?" she implored. "It'll be just like in the backyard. We'll be careful."

By the time they were fifteen, Isabel had grown more gutsy about being around the house, even if the others were there. There had been plenty of times when she even snuck into the backyard with the boys during the day, hidden somewhere in the folds of her best friend's cloak. Two years of that practice, and it had always proven to be a good system for them.

"Well… okay," he conceded. "If this is something you think we can do, then who am I to complain?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried, flying around him once before hugging his arm. "Finally I get to break free from that fence! It's been so long!"

"Don't get too overzealous," Ferb chided, holding his hand out for her to land on. "I'm not letting you out of my sight for a second. Not a single second, and—"

"Alright, alright," she giggled, too thrilled to stand still. She flew from his hand back up to his shoulder. She bounced twice before kissing his cheek. "Let's go to the Harvest, shall we?"

"I suppose we shall." He stood, but didn't prepare to leave like she expected him to. Instead, he crossed back over to the large wardrobe in the corner his room, tossing the doors open.

"What are you doing?"

He looked over his shoulder, flashing her his usual smirk. "Well, I have to find a shirt with a pocket, now don't I?"

* * *

"Anyone else here feeling a little uncomfortable?" Phineas laughed, shaking his head.

They were strolling down Danvillage's main road, which was covered by a loud, colorful throng of people. There was music and shouting, and every vendor who had something to sell was giving it their all today.

"Now don't be so dramatic," Lindavahle reprimanded, slinging an arm around both boys' shoulders. "You spend all your time around that alchemy table, and I want grandchildren. Your sister was _married_ at your age, and—"

"Hey, you'll have grandkids," Phineas shot back. "Candavere is pregnant."

"Still," their mother said, "seventeen and not only unmarried, but _uncourted. _It's not that I don't love having you boys around, but… you can't be married to potions, now can you?"

Ferb almost smiled. Really, his mother shouldn't pose such notions as questions. It might confuse Phineas, who was definitely far from cognizant of relationships. Knowing how much he loved his projects, one never knew if he would take that rhetorically.

"With my brothers? That's a funny question, Mom."

They all turned around, finding Candavere behind them. She was fanning herself with one hand, the other wrapped around her swollen stomach. Jeremiad was behind her.

"Candavere!" their mother cried, abandoning the boys to wrap her arms around her daughter. "I didn't see you before. Hello, Jeremiad."

"So what's this I hear about being married to potions?" their sister laughed.

"It's not a question," Lindavahle quickly digressed. "I don't think we'd have made it on antiques alone if not for the income from selling their potions, but they're not boys anymore. They should be marrying this year, and instead neither of them have shown even the remotest interest in courting."

"I don't see the problem with that," Phineas grumbled playfully, making a sour face at their mom.

Lindavahle's gaze fell on Ferb, but he didn't have anything to add. He shrugged.

His mother, though she meant well and wasn't exactly wrong, was harder on him than she was on Phineas. He was the eldest of the two, and thus it was expected of him to be married first. The entire process just… never really held much appeal to him. Maybe it was because he had insider information about how large the threat of Malifishmirtz really was. It made silly matters such as courting seem like just that—silly.

Then there was Phineas, who was happy with a scroll, his catalyzing agents, and an empty vial full of potential. It appeared that he hadn't yet realized he might ever need more than that.

His poor mother… stuck with two oddball sons. Really, it was a good thing Candavere was such a hopeless romantic; Ferb reckoned his brother and he would probably always disappoint their mother on that front. At least she had one fairly normal child.

"You want them to find girls today?" Candavere raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Phineas crossed his arms.

"And I reiterate; anyone else here feeling a little uncomfortable?"

"Oh, nonsense," Lindavahle said, taking Phineas' arm. Her voice adopted that certain _mom tone_—that low and even drone that left no room for argument. "Now you'll come with me. Your brother can handle himself, but I have a feeling you'll need my help."

"What?" Phineas spluttered, looking to Ferb with a very clear message in his eyes; _please don't let her make me go through this._

In return, Ferb only chuckled, giving his brother an apologetic smile before gesturing between them in a way that said, _better you than me._

"Gee, thanks," the redhead groaned, though he was still smiling. "You're such a help."

Ferb shrugged again, and his little brother was dragged off, his mother pointing here and there—not very discreetly, mind you—at any of the girls around their age. _The poor, poor fellow…._ Although, as much as Ferb pitied his little brother right now, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to take his place.

"Well," his sister nudged him from behind, "you heard Mom. Go find yourself a girlfriend."

He glared back at her evilly; she was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. As if she could read his thoughts, she smirked in a, _yes, yes I am,_ sort of way. With a shake of his head, Ferb took off in the other direction.

He had zero desire to go along with his mother's wishes, though. Instead, he found himself wandering around the festival, letting Isabel see everything from his pocket. Opening ceremony would be starting soon, so everyone was trying to buy food now. It was busy and full of energy, and Ferb wondered if that was maybe what the inside of a beehive was like. He reckoned not; a beehive would have probably been more organized.

He passed by a cart selling some sort of baked goods and felt a tug on the fabric of his shirt. He continued walking, but the tugs grew more persistent and he backtracked, turning toward the pastry cart.

"Why not?" he breathed, knowing the sprite would hear him. He ordered a delicious-looking warm bun with some sort of oozing, melted cream on top. Now just to find somewhere private…

After some searching, Ferb managed just that. He followed a dirt trail to a little clearing amongst some trees, but he still wouldn't risk it. He slid off the beaten path, deeper into the foliage. It was close enough to still hear everything going on at the festival, but a place no one would think to go.

"That smells delicious!" Isabel hummed, trying to pull the side of his cloak aside to see a little better, but the thick cloth was too heavy. "A little help?"

"No need. This looks like as good of a spot as any." He'd stumbled upon a fallen log—a perfect place to sit. He did just that, and Isabel clambered from the folds of his shirt, flying up and landing on his leg.

He held the pastry out to her, but instead she was staring out at the trees. It had been six years... Yes, she felt at home with Ferb, but the forest had been her home for eleven years before that. It smelled so good—roots, and leaves, and dirt. She smiled.

"Thank you so much," she exhaled. Her legs grew weak at it all, and she dropped to her knees. "It's been so long… I didn't realize how much I missed it, really."

She looked back at him and he tried to smile, but he must not have been too successful. Whatever she saw, it made the corners of her lips fall, just slightly.

"Just so you know," she began, turning her body around to fully face him, "as surreal and wonderful as it is to be out here, I'd never want to go back."

"I find that difficult to believe." He held the bun out to her again, and this time she took it, staring at it as she shrugged.

"I'm so happy to be out here. It's my element, you know? So of course I love it, but… I love actually having a family more." She peeked over the pastry, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a little startled, but his smirk from before had grown into a wider smile. She looked back down, feeling her cheeks warm again. "But you better tear this for me. It's huge, and I have no clue how I'm going to eat it. And you have to eat most of it. Can't waste something that smells so delicious."

"Sure," he replied, taking it and tearing off a small wedge. He dragged the piece through the sweet cream on top before giving it back to her. They fell into silence, each eating their portion.

It was easily the best thing Isabel ever tasted. The breading was so puffy and flaky that it dissolved on her tongue. The cream was so sweet it made her want to smack her lips together. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she fell back, lying along his leg.

"I take it you like it?" he grinned. She blinked up at him.

"I've never eaten anything more delicious."

"Well, then that was worth coming right there." He tore another small bit off, setting it aside for her.

"You're the best, Ferb," she decided, taking a giant bite. "The absolute best."

"I try."

"No you don't," she laughed. "You don't have to try. You just are."

"Trying to butter me up to get more, are we?"

"No." She took another bite. "Although, if it's working, I won't complain."

He laughed again, taking a bite of his own. Before he had a chance to reply, though, another voice spoke.

"Ferb?"

Ferb yanked his cloak over his leg, but then Candavere spoke again and confirmed his fear; it was too late.

"I knew you were keeping something from us… but I never expected _this_."

He moved his hand over Isabel, too, hoping that maybe he could have been wrong. Maybe his sister never expected him to sneak off during a festival, or sit alone in the woods, or… eat a hot bun?

He tried to look as confused as possible, as if to say, _what are you talking about?_

"All these years full of secretive behavior and busting evasions… and it was because of a _sprite? _Is that really what this has all been about?"

Ferb gulped, feeling Isabel wiggle under his hand. He knew between it and the fabric, it must have been stifling, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to reveal her. Obviously Candavere saw or heard something, but they'd been keeping this secret between the two of them for so long. Introducing Isabel to his sister was a preposterous notion.

"Has it been living with us?" she gasped. "It's been living with us, hasn't it… Ferbalot, how long have you been hiding _some woodland creature _in our house? Isn't that dangerous?"

"She's not an _it,_" he found himself saying, which he supposed was probably the most ridiculous thing to begin with.

Candavere's gaze fell to his leg. She blinked. Then she looked back to Ferb, her gaze demanding an explanation. Within a second, she was sitting on the log next to him, which was an odd sight given her pregnant state, but the look on her face left no room for debate or distraction.

Ferb tried to weigh his options, but what could he do? He felt Isabel push against his hand, and he slowly removed it. Isabel zipped out from under his cloak, but she moved so fast that her form was a mere blur before he felt her on his shoulder, out of Candavere's line of sight. None of them seemed to know quite how to handle it.

"And… she's not just some woodland creature, either. Or dangerous."

Candavere ignored her brother's most recent comment, basking in the fruition of years of effort to bust Ferb. He'd always spent suspicious amounts of time at home, or jetted off to his room every night perhaps a little too quickly. Nothing had ever come of it—walking into empty rooms, Ferb casually drawing or reading a book—but now she knew she'd never been wrong. He was finally busted.

She watched mutely as the sprite thing—the sprite _girl?_—poked her head over the top of Ferb's, her wings fluttering to hold her aloft amidst his hair.

"Okay," she stated, her eyebrows rising coolly. "You're going to start talking, brother of mine. I don't care how quiet you like to be, if you can talk to your little sprite friend in the middle of the woods, you can talk to me now. What's going on?"

"I… can't actually tell you, Candavere," he replied. She blinked at him.

"Oh yes you can," she snapped back, letting her pregnancy-enhanced crankiness add volumes of threat to her words.

"No, I can't. I—"

"It's okay, Ferb," Isabel sighed, dropping down to his shoulder again. Out of habit, Ferb held his hand up, and she jumped to it, letting Candavere see her fully for the first time. The sprite's eyes never wavered from his face, though. "You can tell her."

"You sure?"

"She's sure," Candavere cut him off, her eyes flashing between the two of them in disbelief.

The attention from both girls—one demanding and busting-crazed, and the other fragile and scared—made Ferb uncomfortable. He was never the center of attention in his family, which was just how he liked it. He didn't know how to explain Isabel to his sister.

"Well… she's my best friend," he began. It seemed like the best thing to establish right away—a subtle warning to his sister to watch what she said about the sprite. A statement of her importance. The premise of every interaction for the past six years. He continued from there, explaining how Isabel came to be in their house, the reason for all the secrecy, what they knew about Malifishmirtz and the sprite camps, and so forth.

By the time he was finished, Candavere looked like he'd just told her Gertrude the goose was in her undergarments. Her jaw was almost unhinged, and her eyebrows looked like they wanted to fly off her face.

It confused him, really. Yes, it was a surprise. He'd kept the secret for a long time, and she was probably struggling with how they'd manage to do that in a house filled with curious people. She had a right to be stunned, but her expression now… well, it wasn't _that_ big of a deal, was it?

Too much time passed.

"Phineas is going to kill you when he finds out," was all she said when she finally spoke.

Ferb tilted his head questioningly.

"How could you not tell him about this? Like he wouldn't understand. I mean, when he finds out his brother has hidden a sprite in his room for _six years_ without telling anybody… Why didn't you tell him?"

"To protect me," Isabel answered, addressing Candavere directly for the first time. "I had to remain secret. If anyone found out, and Malifishmirtz heard I was… Well, I didn't want to put your family in danger."

"Phineas and secrets. Secrets and Phineas. Can you blame me?"

Ferb met her eyes, and she knew he had a point. Phineas was a genius. He was cheerful, optimistic, and often put the sun to shame with how brightly he liked to shine. But secret-keeping? Although the youngest of the three wouldn't want to put his family in danger, he was at times a little too inquisitive for his own good. Mix that with his chatty, open personality…

"Okay, fair enough," she sniffed. She was silent, watching Isabel, then watching Ferb, her lips pursed in deliberation. "But you're still busted, Ferbalot. Mom and Dad—"

"No!" Ferb immediately cut in, holding his hands closer to his core protectively. "Candavere, the less people who know, the better. Anything else would just be increasing the risk of Isabel getting hurt."

"Of _your family _getting hurt," Isabel corrected, glancing back over to Candavere. "That's what really—"

"Come on, Bel," he sighed, shaking his head. "You know there's not really a difference anymore." She stared up at him, and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. It disappeared as soon as he looked back to his sister, though. "Either way, this has to stay secret, Candavere."

Her eyes flashed between the two, a new wave of confusion washing over her face. It was only there for the briefest moment, before a giant grin captured her lips. Seeing it made Ferb think only one thing: _oh no. _Whatever she was thinking… he knew it wouldn't be good.

"You really should tell Mom, you know," she crooned. Her voice was filled with a sugary sweetness that definitely hadn't been there before.

Ferb glanced down at Isabel. Her expression harbored the same caution as his. Forget revealing their secret; this tone—this teasing, overly bubbly _Candavere _tone… _this_ was the real danger.

He raised one eyebrow; _why?_

"Then she might give you less of a hard time."

That did nothing to assuage his confusion. She seemed to know that, though. She kept going.

"I'm just saying… Mom would back off a lot if she knew you already had a girlfriend."

Oh. Oh, it was just as bad as he feared. Maybe even worse. He stared at his sister, unable to bring himself to look at Isabel, who had gone completely still in his hands.

There were no words. Which of course meant Candavere would fill the void with words of her own.

"Wow, Ferb. You turned even redder than I hoped. I don't think I've ever seen you embarrassed before."

Ferb blinked at her, but finally found his voice. "_What?_"

Her only response was an even broader version of her smile. Ferb was stunned by how unnerving it was.

He couldn't stop himself from stealing a small glance at Isabel, who was looking at Candavere like she could find a way to process her comment through the sheer force of her stare. If his face was as flushed as hers was right now…

"Did I touch on a sore subject?" her sister continued, her eyes glinting.

He couldn't believe what she was implying. Isabel… well, did he even need to say it?

"She's a sprite, Candavere." Just saying it made his tongue burn guiltily, but he chose not to look into that too much. He didn't know it was possible, but his cheeks felt even hotter.

"You said it yourself; she's a very _special _sprite."

Yes. He couldn't ignore the irony that the one sprite in the entire kingdom who actually had an emotional capacity larger than a thimble was also one of the most important things in his life, but the fact of the matter still remained.

"She's a sprite."

Ferb frowned at his strange hatred for those three words. Isabel still hadn't moved an inch. Candavere's grin grew even wider. All of this was accentuated by a roar of cheers from behind them, indicating the opening ceremony was beginning.

"I know," Candavere laughed. "I know she's a sprite. That's why Mom and Dad are going to go absolutely crazy when they find out that you—"

"That I what, Candavere?" he challenged, and she laughed again.

"It's not as fun when you get cranky."

"I'm not cranky."

"Then what do you call this?"

"_Irritable,_ though not for the reasons you think." He took a deep breath. "I don't know how you're interpreting all of this Candavere, but you're not going to tell Mom, Dad, or Phineas."

Candavere's face became completely smooth. "Ferb, be quiet."

"If not for Isabel's sake, then for their sake," he continued. "Because if you think Malifishmirtz is dangerous, then—"

"Be quiet!"

"No, Candavere, you have to listen to me. You—"

"Ferb—"

"You can't tell anyone about Isabel! If anything happens to—"

Candavere slapped her hand over his mouth, staring off in the direction from which they came. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, like she was listening for something. Ferb leaned away from her hand, trying to figure out what the fuss was about.

All he heard was the opening speech of the festival. It was pleasant, the voice of the speaker deep and smooth, lilting every few words in emphasis. And it looked like it terrified Candavere.

She stood up, cradling her stomach as she did so, and took off toward the dirt path. Ferb met Isabel's eyes, finding his same panic mirrored in her light blue. She jumped from his hands into his pocket, and Ferb pulled his cloak forward to better conceal her. He ran after his sister.

Even without her pregnancy, Ferb's legs dwarfed hers. He had no problem catching up. When he was beside her, he put his hand on her shoulder; _what's wrong?_

"That voice," she wheezed, winded already, "I know that voice—whoever's talking right now." She breathed in and out. "It's that man from years ago. That nobleman. The one Phineas and I were spying on."

Ferb's eyebrows furrowed, and he flashed her a cynical look. That had been three years ago. He seriously doubted she'd recognize the voice of a man whom she'd spied on for ten minutes on one random day of the summer.

"Trust me, I'd recognize it anywhere," she refuted, picking up on his attitude. "That's him. Deep, charming, dripping with ill-concealed presumption."

"Should have known he'd be a politician, then," Ferb muttered under his breath. Isabel laughed.

They turned a corner and ran right into Phineas.

"There you guys are!" he exploded, throwing his arms around Ferb. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" He pulled back, his hands on his brother's shoulders, but he turned his grim expression to Candavere. "It's him."

Despite the wave of panic building inside her at her youngest brother's confirmation of her words, Candavere shot Ferb a smug look. She'd been right after all.

"It's that nobleman guy, isn't it?" she breathed. "Malifishmirtz's right-hand man. The one who was talking about fairies."

"Yeah," Phineas reiterated. "It's him. I have no clue who he _is_, but it's him, alright." He turned around, waving them after him. "But come on. Maybe someone else will know, and we better listen to what he has to say."

They began fighting through the crowd again, this time following Phineas. He led them to the front, where their parents and Jeremiad stood watching the speaker. Ferb took in his appearance for the first time.

Everything about the man screamed wealthy and powerful, from his well-kempt brown hair to his fancy eyeglasses—a fairly new invention only the richest patrons could afford. His voice was so strong it boomed over the crowd with ease, and he had this disturbing way of maintaining a constant smile despite the fact he was speaking.

"Now that I've introduced you to the rest of the dignitaries present today, I want to thank you for such a warm welcome to your… _humble_ festival. It is important in these difficult times to band together, and trust in your officials to protect you from the growing threat."

Phineas met Candavere's eyes, both pairs reflecting the same question; did anyone else know that this man was a leading cause of that threat? Ferb knew the situation was even worse, though. He doubted most people knew the basics of what Malifishmirtz was up to, let alone the role of the pompous politician droning on in front of them.

"Some of you might be wondering what a man of my stature is doing here at your festival in celebration of woad, with is vastly different from the goods traded along the roads of Kaigate, but I felt there were important things to discuss. Things that the entire kingdom should know." He paused, his eyes sweeping across the crowd as if to draw them in. "I am truly here today to talk to you about the evil sorcerer Malifishmirtz."

It was like every member of the audience was poked with a cattle prod. Everyone stood at a straighter attention, glancing around at each other like doing so would somehow confirm that they heard what they thought they just heard. For most people, Malifishmirtz had dropped to a taboo—a scar in their histories that they never discussed. A memory best forgotten.

"That's right," the man drawled, smirking at the effect his words had. "As I'm sure you all know, there is no one better equipped to speak on this subject than me."

A quiet, uneasy laughter snaked through the crowd. Ferb looked to his brother questioningly, but Phineas only shrugged. The man continued as if he hadn't said something uncomfortable or humorous.

"I am here to put the rumors to rest. Yes, Malifishmirtz is on the rise." More murmurs, but the man pressed on. "As many have been speculating, he has set off after the sprites. I am also here to tell you that that is correct, but it doesn't end there."

His face adopted an expression that seemed so remorseful it made the Flynn-Fletchers sick. Just how great of an actor was that guy? He took a deep, solemn breath.

"My men have just discovered that Malifishmirtz found a second camp of sprites, obliterating them all and taking their magic for himself."

From her hiding place, Isabel felt her blood run cold. Malifishmirtz found another camp? She couldn't contain her horror. Had it been Syneia he found? Had everyone she'd known—had Gretchen, Gingrelle, Adyssa, Katilda, Hollivere, Millinda… had they all been wiped out?

She felt a sob building in her throat and she swallowed it down, but her anxiety toppled over all of her common sense. She stood, ready to tumble out of Ferb's pocket. Ready to look this evil nobleman straight in the face, demand answers, and scan his eyes for the truth. Ready to—

She felt Ferb's hand against her just as she was about to kick off from the fabric. He was gentle in pressing her back down, but his message was clear; _don't do something stupid. _He was right, of course. She couldn't let herself get carried away by her emotions. Not right now.

"We are uncertain of what exactly he his planning, but it is safe to assume he wants to reclaim his power over the Tri-Kingdom Area. With every sprite he finds, he gains more power to do just that. If something isn't done, we will slip back into those dark times when we lived in fear of him and his evil magic."

If the nobleman was intending to rile everyone up, he succeeded. Indignant and terrified outbursts erupted up and down the street, weaving into a loud and confusing cacophony. Then the man raised his hands for silence. Ferb didn't know if it was because they were too confused and scared to disobey, or if the mystery man was really that important, but a hush fell over the crowd.

"I know. I was just as scared as you are, given the things Malifishmirtz was able to do before his first fall. But I've worked past that fear now. I've found comfort and hope. And, if you lend me your ears, I will tell you how. I will tell you how we will remain safe against any threat Malifishmirtz can throw at us."

Phineas shot Ferb a look that said, _people aren't really that gullible, are they?_ Ferb was proud of his little brother for catching on the man's manipulative rhetoric, but sadly, he feared for the answer. It was the age of hysterical hear-say; people were _exactly_ that gullible. If the man was promising answers before the people could even formulate questions… well, why wouldn't they listen?

"The answer is in men," the nobleman declared. "My men, more specifically. Here to protect you all."

Still smiling that creepily unwavering smile of his, he turned to the side, gesturing for someone to come on stage. Two men trudged up. They were burley, covered in rough, worn clothing. The nobleman smiled more harshly, his eyes glaring at the newcomers as if to say, _smile boys. _The men just stared on grumpily.

"Yes," the man faltered. "Aren't they… _charming_. Anyway, these fine men are brave members of my army. They have been combing the woods in search of Malifishmirtz and any other threats to the kingdom. They are working tirelessly to keep you safe. How about some applause?"

There was a round of half-hearted applause, and the men were dismissed. They trudged off the stage with the same indifference with which they entered it. The nobleman cleared his throat as if there was nothing odd about it, and the men were actually as charming as he tried to present them to be.

"But this protection comes with a price," he sighed, and the air almost became suffocating with all the apprehension wafting from the crowd. Danvillage was small, filled largely with peasant farmers or local tradesmen, like their father. Some hoity rich man strolling in and talking about _a price_—yeah, that was why they all had pitchforks.

Then the man surprised them; he laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, folks. I do not mean money. I have that covered; it is my repentance to you all. My way to repay you for the past."

Candavere nudged Ferb, though it was unnecessary. He knew what the man just said had to have been important. He kept going.

"No, the price I ask is nothing. A mere trifle. A consolation of sentiment alone, and an encouragement for me to keep up my hard work." He paused, meeting the eyes of several audience members in turn. "I ask that you trust me. You come to me with any information, you cooperate with my men, you bestow your faith in me to protect this kingdom we all love.

"Do this, and we will never be conquered by Malifishmirtz. Do this, and you will rest easier at night. Put the past behind you, and your trust in me, and we will be strong."

Ferb was hoping for some hissing, or boos, or something. Instead, the man's speech was met with cheers. Cheers for a man who was the right-hand man of Malifishmirtz… He had a nasty feeling, a knot of worry and anxiety congealing in his gut. They were all in for some hard times, and these happy, cheering people were going to be completely blind-sided.

After a moment, the nobleman left and the crowd started dissipating. The Flynn-Fletchers didn't move, though. Ferb saw the same alarm he was feeling in his sibling's expressions. They needed answers. Phineas stepped forward.

"Mom, who was that guy?"

Lindavahle's eyebrows rose in surprise. The answer must have been obvious. The man was evidently well known. Renowned and powerful—and secretly evil.

"He's the Lord of Kaigate, the largest merchant's town down south," she replied. "Although his town is quite out of the way, the ground is rich in nutrients, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice, Mom," Candavere cut her off, "but _who is he?_ And why was he going on and on about trusting him, and empowering him, and whatnot?"

"And the part about repentance for the past?" Phineas added on.

Lindavahle's gaze took a turn on each of her kids, worry flowing from her in the midst of their questions. All three—though secretly four—leaned in towards their mother. She apparently didn't find anything too alarming in their faces, though, because she finally sighed.

"I can't believe you guys don't know. That man's name is Rogerick. He's Malifishmirtz's brother."

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Tada! Another chapter down! The nobleman was Roger (or… Rogerick, since it's Medieval, it's a __fan fiction, and it's just plain fun XD). Anyone see that coming? Rogerick is Malifishimirtz's slimy right-hand man in charge of a human army serving the evil sorcerer. Boy, am I having fun with this..._

_For those wondering about Perrible, he is indeed in this story, I promise! He is brought up next chapter. Also, I will have scenes shifting to his perspective and his actions. Buford and Baljeet will be in the story, too. All in good time! It's super planned out. Probably more so than I should even bother, really, but (as I've stated) I'm enjoying this._

_Look out for Chapter Six: Catalysts. Everything gets turned on its head, and the real adventure begins ^.^_

_To those who have reviewed, thank you! To those who __haven't… well, I thank you for making it to this point and reading anyway! Have an awesome day!_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	7. Catalysts

_Yes, Roger was the nobleman. Roger is working for Malifishmirtz! Mwa ha ha ha haaaaa! I had fun with that. It's an interesting twist; in this world, Heinz had all the power __because he was the oldest. He had all the magic. It was quite the turn on their usual relationship. I personally never liked Roger. He struck me as… slimy. Thus, I figured if Heinz actually had the power, Roger would be willing to kiss up to the one in charge—especially if it meant he could be wealthy, the lord of his own town, and control a bunch of men._

_Or should I call him Rogerick? The medieval names… goodness, they're ridiculous, but I can't help but love them for being so silly. What I dread is when I have to start using the names Bufavalous and Baljeetolus. They're just the worst XD_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER SIX:

Catalysts

* * *

Ferb dipped his quill into a jar of ink before bringing it against a scroll in a long arc. Phineas was in town selling a few potions, his father was working, and his mother was off at the market, so it was a quiet afternoon in his home. He was enjoying the moment. Isabel lounged on top of his head, her eyes closed as she listened to the scratching sound of metal against parchment.

They stayed that way for a while, neither of them speaking, but neither having a reason to. Until Isabel did.

"Your hair is so… hmm." She rolled to her stomach, running her hand along and watching each strand bend, then fall along each finger.

The quill grew still in his hand. "So, what?"

He felt a few more small shifts from atop his head before she finally responded.

"It's so… weird."

He was used to that—the unusually quiet alchemist boy with the strange green hair. He couldn't remember how many times people had asked him if a potion backfired, to which he would stare before they exclaimed something like, 'well how else do you arrive upon such an unnatural color?'

He'd explained it by now so often each word was burned into his brain and slid from his tongue with ease: a genetic mutation, a distorted color from birth, and so on. He was completely prepared to dive into his usual explanation, but before he could, Isabel spoke again with a quiet giggle.

"I mean… how could it possibly be this _thick?_ It's just not natural."

Thick. His hair was weird… because it was thick. Ferb was suddenly very happy the little sprite was on his head, since he knew she'd relish the opportunity to tease him about the smile now traced across his lips.

"You're so strange sometimes," he muttered. She landed on his shoulder harder than she usual. Did she just fall? "Isabel?"

"I know I'm strange," she sighed like nothing had happened. "But by now, I just take that as a compliment."

He held his hand up to his shoulder and watched as she jumped to his palm. "I meant it as a compliment," he confirmed, bringing her in front of his face. His eyes traced her wings. Why was she avoiding flying? And pretending like she wasn't?

"Since you're strange, too," she jibed playfully, falling to her knees and peering over his fingers at his drawing. She was reduced to a speechless puddle of glowing smiles and warm cheeks by she saw.

Ferb had drawn her. There was no mistaking it; his skill had rendered her image perfectly. She'd long had to cut her original sprite dress, creating a top and a bottom to fit her as she grew—which wasn't much, considering how small sprites were anyway, but at age eighteen, her legs were much longer, her body leaner. In the drawing, her inky form was curled up on what any outsider would assume was grass, but she knew he'd drawn her sleeping on his head.

"Ferb, it's… it looks just like me!" She felt a laugh escape her lips out of pure wonder. "It's incredible!"

"It's not much," he mumbled, his fingers curling up a little. "Really, it's just—"

"Incredible," she cut him off. "You did this with_ ink?_ I wasn't asleep while you were drawing this just now. How did you do it without a mirror? Or seeing me? Or…?"

"It's not that hard to picture what you look like sleeping," he stated offhandedly. "Most the time we spend together is at night. I know the image well by now."

She smiled, her eyes following her fingers as they traced along a line in his palm. "Forget what I said about strange. You're creepy, Fletcher."

"Tease me all you like, but I know you secretly love it."

"Oh sure," she laughed. "_That's _how I would describe it. It's like you read my—"

"_Ferbalot,_" Lindavahle sang from somewhere below them. She'd gotten home earlier than he'd expected. "_Ferbalot, come down here, please._"

"Oh no," he groaned, his head slumping down over his work.

"_Ferbalot?_"

Isabel tapped twice on his hand, reminding him to respond. He started, yelling, "Just a moment," in the direction of the door. He met her eyes, and the new destitute gleam in his made her giggle.

"Do you think it's another one of her plans?"

"Undoubtedly," he sighed. He stood, watching the door as his mouth sunk in distaste. "How about you create a distraction, and I sneak out of my window. Then we can—"

"_Ferbalot!_"

"I'll see you when you get back," she smiled. She stepped off his hand, meaning to fly over to the windowsill, but she ended up awkwardly half-flying, half-tumbling to the top of his desk below.

"Okay, I'm not letting you ignore it this time," he said, kneeling down so he was eye level with her as she pushed herself up from the wood. "What's going on? Can you not fly?"

"I can fly," she snapped back. As if to prove her point, she flapped her wings, though Ferb figured it proved nothing. "I just feel tired today."

"You were born to fly. I've never seen you anything but graceful when it comes to your wings, no matter how tired you are. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she yawned. "Really, Ferb, I'm fine. Everyone has their clumsy days." Ferb gave her a skeptical look, but she shook her head. "Besides, you should go before—"

"_Ferbalot Reginald Fletcher, I asked for you to come downstairs!"_ They heard a creaking from the stairs, and Ferb zipped out of the room before his mother could barge in and inquire as to what had been taking so long.

Once he was gone, Isabel dropped all her pretenses of normal behavior. Her wings drooped, and she slid back to her knees.

Truth be told, she was feeling rotten, but she couldn't understand why. Sprites never got sick. Granted, sprites never lived with humans, or expressed emotions, and she defied those. But they never got sick. The germs that affected humans could never penetrate their immune system. She had no clue what to make of her fatigue or the way her wings ached.

She heard Lindavahle talking in the backyard and forced herself into a standing position. The window was in the middle of the wall adjacent to Ferb's desk—only a few feet, really. She was fine; she could do it.

She fluttered her wings. It felt like she was trying to move them through a jar of honey, but then she heard Ferb mumble a hello. If _Ferb _was talking, it meant someone other than Lindavahle or Phineas had to be there. She pushed herself off, biting her lip at the ridiculous amount of effort it took to keep aloft, but pressed on toward the windowsill.

Her flight was less than nimble, and just as she was hovering over the ledge, her wings gave out on her altogether. She toppled over herself, landing hard. She was so tired she almost just stayed there, but then she heard a girl giggle. She… heard a _girl giggle?_

She crawled over to the edge, peering out of the open window. What she saw made her burst out laughing. Ferb stood facing his mother, who was busy introducing him to yet another girl. She was pretty and she had a dazzling smile as she curtsied. Leave it to his mother to constantly play matchmaker…

Lindavahle was going on and on about how she'd grown up on a farm on the outskirts of Danvillage. Part way through, Ferb looked up to his window, his concern ill-concealed on his face. Then his eyes found her, and his gaze quickly shot back down to his mother and the stranger.

The girl made some comment on how foggy it was, and they reconvened inside. Isabel didn't have it in her to go elsewhere, though. She stretched out on her stomach, watching the strange puffs of fog the girl had complained about rolling over the tops of the buildings.

The past year had been a difficult one for the kingdom. With the Mist Weavers down two members of their council, the seasons had stopped changing. Sprites were clearly sticking closer to their hiding holes, because plants hadn't been growing as well. Given it was summer, it should have been scorching every day, and they should have been in a drought, but that wasn't the case.

In reality, it was far worse.

It rained every few days, which kept the ground moist and livable, but Isabel feared what it meant. If the Mist Weavers could no longer change the seasons, they wouldn't be handling the weather. That meant the rain was the fault of Malifishmirtz. It was eerily similar to their quest so many years ago.

Another issue was that terrible fog. It was thick and unusually sticky compared to what came with most storms. It had the dark magic of the sorcerer written all over it. For what purpose, she wasn't sure. But it had to be Malifishmirtz.

The many nights when she and Ferb talked about this, one thought was a common theme; they were certain, with how powerful Malifishmirtz was, that he had to enter his endgame soon—and whatever that would look like, it wouldn't be good.

Through the whole year, ever since the day they all went to the Woad-Gathering Harvest, Phineas had been remarkably helpful, despite the fact he didn't know the whole story. He'd been a fiend trying to find information on Rogerick… Malifishmirtz. Rogerick Malifishmirtz. She cringed every time she tried to put that together.

The first thing Phineas had delved into was the history of the Malifishmirtz line, which was scarce to say the least. Most she had already known—long line of sorcerers, tyrannical reigns, dark magic, scary people, and the like. Such things were common knowledge.

Although, one new thing she learned was that there could only be one inheritor of the line's dark magic, and Rogerick, being the younger brother, got the short end of the stick. Instead, the eldest Malifishmirtz—oddly, she didn't even realize he _had_ a first name, and nobody knew what it was—was the chosen sorcerer, and Rogerick fell to the family black sheep, of sorts. That was probably how he came to work for his brother.

During the time when Malifishmirtz was using his magic to terrorize the Tri-Kingdom Area, Rogerick had followed his brother, aiding him with his personal army of thugs. He'd bullied and intimidated towns into submission—until Malifishmirtz fell. Then he pleaded that _he _had been the one being coerced, but by his older brother.

She had no clue how he got away with it. She figured a lot of gold must have been tossed around. Apparently he'd spent the years since his brother's fall running the trades town, Kaigate; though, as Phineas assured Ferb when he told him all of this, he had been under careful supervision the whole time.

If it weren't all so scary, she would have laughed. If he was running around meeting with spies and sending his mean thugs through the woods in search for sprites, he obviously wasn't being supervised enough. Bad enough that Malifishmirtz had the power of two sprite camps on top of his own. Now he had a bunch of men at his command, too? Things were looking grim.

Her muscles began to ache, and she pressed herself as flat as she could against the wood paneling of the ledge, trying to get them to relax. Maybe it was just the fog, and they way it made the air heavy and humid. It was hard to breathe. And she was somehow cold… so cold she was shivering. She wondered if Ferb felt that way. It couldn't just be her.

Then the door to the room closed behind her, and she sat up way too quickly. Her muscles screamed in protest and she became so dizzy she almost fell over, but she forced herself to blink through it. Her head shot towards the door, seeing Ferb standing there.

His eyebrows sunk in a whole new wave of concern as soon as he saw her, but he held his finger up to his mouth, warning her against words. He crossed to his desk, grabbing his chair and moving it to his door, tilting it on its side and propping it under the handle.

She flagged him down, trying to silently ask whom exactly he was trying to bar out, and what he was doing back up here that fast. She'd never been as good at silent communication as he was, but he seemed to get the message. He didn't have to answer, though. A moment later, Lindavahle was pounding on the door.

"Ferbalot," she called through the wood. "What was _that?_" She pressed on the door, the handle jiggling with her efforts, but the chair kept her out. "Did you… _did you _lock_ the door? _I didn't even think your door _had _a lock!"

Ferb remained silent, standing like a sentry by the door in case his mother happened to break through. She sounded more confused than angry, but Isabel wouldn't want to be Ferb just then. What had he done?

After about half a mark of yelling, then coaxing, then pleading, then yelling, Lindavahle gave up. When they were certain she'd walked away, Isabel saw the tension drain from Ferb. He let out a short laugh, sliding his back down his door until he was sitting on the ground. After a minute of silence, he burst out into full laughter.

Seeing him that way—eyes closed from fatigue, but teeming with amusement nonetheless—made her feel a little better.

"Am I going to get the story?" she giggled. She took a deep breath, gathering her strength and resolve so she could stand. "What happened? What about that pretty girl?"

His eyes finally opened, and he looked over to her. He had that usual smirk of his, and he shook his head.

"It's not much of a story. The most entertaining part is probably what you just witnessed. But let's just say I was as polite as possible to that poor girl and as uncouth as possible to my prying mother, and leave it at that."

Her jaw dropped. "You walked out on the… _whatever_ your mom set up?"

"Walked out has quite a negative connotation. I prefer to think that I politely declined, given the fact that I was never _in _enough to walk out in the first place."

"But… why?"

He raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'why?'"

"Why… to all of it, I guess. I mean, not just why you _politely declined _today, but… why you always do that. Every time, no matter whom your mom has set up."

He stood and stretched, but his eyes didn't waver from hers. "There are more important things."

She blinked. "More important things? Your mom doesn't seem to think so."

He crossed over to her, falling to his knees again and leaning on the windowsill. "Well, it's a good thing it's my life then, now isn't it."

"That sounded oddly rebellious," she laughed, trying to lighten the strange gravity that haunted their words. "I thought you were supposed to be a good kid."

His expression clearly showed he wasn't deterred by her attempts at humor. His eyes were piercing. "I have bigger things to worry about." He held his hand out, and although it was only a little above where her feet were, she could barely fly onto it. As it was, she ended up falling to her knees again in his palm. "Or should I say _littler _things…"

She stared up at him with wide eyes, trying to make sure she heard him correctly.

"Oh no," she gasped. "Oh no, Ferb, I don't—I'd never want to get in the way of your happiness. If you think you have to take care of me, or something… If that's why you're not—"

"Hey, Bel?" he cut her off, and she snapped her mouth closed. Then she processed that it was a question, and she unsealed her lips again.

"What?"

He smiled, then shook his head. Bringing his hand up to cup the one that was holding her, he stood. Since his chair was otherwise preoccupied, he pulled himself onto his bed, lying back along his pillows.

"Nothing," he hummed under his breath.

She shivered again, though now she wasn't sure if it was because she was cold. She didn't really know what was happening, but she returned his smile. One of his hands moved up, and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.

The fatigue she'd fought so desperately since she saw him again started creeping up on her, and she bit her lip. She didn't want to worry him. That was the last thing she wanted. The first thing she wanted… she wanted to be warm.

She forced her muscles to work just a little longer, crawling off his hand to his chest, where she finally allowed herself to collapse. She heard his breath falter underneath her, but she latched her hands onto his shirt, curling up as much as possible.

"Isabel?" he exhaled, but she shook her head.

"I just want to lie here," she whimpered. "You're so warm, and I just… I just want to stay here. If only for a little while."

He was quiet for a few seconds before he finally spoke. "You know how well we do with _a little while,_" he laughed.

She was planning on letting the conversation drop there, but something inside of her wouldn't let that happen. Instead, she found herself saying, "I'm counting on it."

It was kind of a sad testament to their relationship that she could actually _hear_ him smile by now. She'd say she spent too much time with him, if she could only bring herself to believe it. She felt him shift, resting his hands behind his head. She didn't know how long she'd stayed there, but her eyes had nearly cemented themselves shut by the time Ferb spoke again.

"What's wrong, Isabel? Are you sick?"

She had to practically search her brain to find her voice, but once she did, she grumbled, "I'm just tired."

"No, you're not," he replied harshly, though quietly, given where she was lying. "You're not just tired. What's going on? Why can't you fly?"

"Because I'm _tired,_" she mumbled. She tried to roll over and adjust herself, but her body didn't want to listen to her. In the end, she could only bury her face deeper against his chest. "I'm tired, and I just want you to hold me."

"And I'm okay with that, I just… I'm worried about you. I've never seen you like this."

"I'm fine."

"Can you even look at me?"

"Yes," she lied. "But I'm too comfy."

"Isabel…"

"You'll have to leave for dinner soon. Let me enjoy this while I can."

"You can't use that excuse; I doubt my mother would give me dinner tonight, even if I went down there."

"So that means I can stay here as long as I want?" That sounded familiar. She tugged on the front of his shirt to let him know what she was talking about.

He sighed. Obviously the little sprite wouldn't admit something was wrong. Maybe she really was tired? He doubted it, but what else could he do? If she thought she needed sleep, he figured he should just let her.

"Will you sing to me?" she sighed, then felt his laugh underneath her.

"Now I know you're sick. No, I won't sing to you."

She was going to pout, but it was too much effort. _Words_ were too much effort. The only thing she could bring herself to do was to listen to his heartbeat and slowly let her eyes close.

* * *

Phineas poured the last drop of a brown liquid into his potion, making the latter turn from dark green to bright purple. He smiled as he quickly capped it, holding it up to the sun.

"Just the color it needed to be! Purple for an orange. That makes twelve different fruit scents!"

Then Phineas remembered his brother wasn't in the yard with him. Which of course meant he'd been talking to himself… He shrugged, setting the vile down on his workbench and looking up to his brother's room.

Things had been weird when he'd returned from the market yesterday. His mom had been grumbling to herself as she scrubbed pots a little more fervently than necessary, but she refused to talk to him about whatever was bothering her beyond exclaiming, "I love both you boys, but for the day, you are my favorite son!"

That, of course, had made him curious about his brother, but that venture was met with even more frustrating of results. His brother must have barricaded his room door to keep their mother out, and even though Phineas called through the door, he hadn't heard a single word from his brother for nearly twelve marks.

Well… not that he often heard words from Ferb anyway, but this was different!

He'd never let anything get in the way of making every summer day count, though. He left his brother alone for the night. It was the next morning, and when his brother was ready, he'd come down. Until then, Phineas would continue to expand their flavor options for their series of smoke bombs and conduct experiments.

Speaking of experiments, where was Perrible? Not that they experimented on their dragonpus; he was their timer. He'd gurgle when something was in the furnace long enough, and his brother or he would pull it out.

Come to think of it, Phineas realized that was the second day in a row without a trace of their pet. Since he worked for the G.W.C.A., Phineas figured he must have had a job to do, but… that didn't mean he didn't worry. He just wished he knew what was keeping Perrible away. Maybe he could even help.

Without his dragonpus around to keep watch, he'd have to keep his eye on the beaker nestled amongst the coals of the furnace. He was watching for any sign of a reaction. He wasn't sure what it would look like, other than any form of change—color, smoke, an explosion. He'd be able to draw some conclusions from any of them.

He didn't have to wait long. It only took only a few minutes before the dusty gray vapor in the beaker turned an indelible black, congealing into a thick liquid at the bottom. That most certainly hadn't been what he expected to happen when he'd decided to test the strange fog that covered their town.

He grabbed a pair of tongs, knocking a few glowing coals aside and clasping its arms around the hot glass. He deposited the beaker on his alchemy table and resigned himself to waiting for it to cool.

Through the years, alchemy had been good for him. He was never one to be patient. When faced with a problem, he and his brother found a quick and creative solution. If they couldn't find one, they made one. But alchemy, with its complex reactions and the realities of lab work, taught him there were some things he couldn't rush, even if he used catalysts to quicken the process.

Once the beaker was cool enough to touch, he took it by the sides, swishing it around. The inky liquid at the bottom was so thick it barely moved. What was in that fog? He wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore, if this was what it was when sifted out to its core component.

He had a creeping suspicion he knew what it was now, but there was one thing that would allow him to tell for sure. He shifted through some vials stored under the alchemy table and found one full of a shimmery, light blue liquid. It was the purest element he knew of. He scooped out a small sample of the dark goop and added a drop of the new substance. The second they met, the black gunk hissed, and steam rose from its surface.

"Dark magic," Phineas gasped. He eyed the beaker with far more caution now. Dark magic? Why on earth would the fog—they were all _breathing_ that stuff! And it was almost pure dark magic!

The fog had been there for two days straight, but nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He had to find more answers, because if there was dark magic in the air, Malifishmirtz was definitely behind it. He doubted anyone else in the kingdom knew of the threat he just discovered. What he would do with the information, he didn't know. But he had to do something!

It dawned on him that maybe that could be why Perrible was gone. Two days without their pet, two days with the evil fog. It was too weird to be considered a coincidence.

He spent a better part of the morning investigating the fog, running test after test. He talked to himself the whole time, but he just went with it; often enough, it was like he was he was talking to himself, even when Ferb was there.

Speaking of his brother, he definitely expected his presence by now. Tiff with their mother or not, he should be here!

Ferb was an interesting case. He was the toughest person in the whole kingdom to read—that was, as long as he wasn't trying to communicate. He knew his brother well enough that he could read his silent way of talking effortlessly, but when he wasn't going through charades or using pointed expressions, he was an enigma.

One thing Phineas was certain of was that his brother had something on his mind, something he wasn't telling him about. He'd developed a whole new layer of pensiveness—one that went beyond his usual contemplation during tasks, and coagulated into this cloud pressing down on his shoulders.

If he had to guess, he'd say it was Malifishmirtz. Although both of them went on the quest eight years ago, Ferb had been the one burdened with using the sword. It had been _his _quest. Phineas was certain, with the special information only the Flynn-Fletchers were privy to, Ferb must have been anxious.

Just like himself, Phineas knew his brother must have felt some sense of duty. They would step up and stop Malifishmirtz!

At least… he hoped Ferb had the same sense of duty.

He enjoyed making potions. He enjoyed improving the lives of those around him by getting people just what they needed in the market. He enjoyed helping take care of things around their home with income it provided. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't get tedious.

He longed for adventure. He wanted to be helping his pet, setting off again. He wanted to be free from the increasing responsibilities his mother kept pushing on them.

Ah, his mother… Yeah, he figured it was safe to assume that was another issue pressing on Ferb's mind.

Lindavahle had grown increasingly crafty and decreasingly subtle with her attempts to marry them off. Phineas absolutely hated it—but he knew he'd been let off easy. His mother brought it up with him on occasion, but he was younger than Ferb. Being the eldest, it meant Ferb should be married first between the two of them. His mother had been laying it on pretty thick.

Given how his mother had been acting, it would make sense that that had been the source of all the weird drama and tension from last night and this morning. Phineas just wished he knew why his brother pressed against the issue so fiercely. He didn't like it any more than Ferb did, but he was pretty sure they didn't have much of a choice. It was just the way of things.

"Granted, we all know how much we like to defy the way of things," he hummed under his breath. Old habits died hard.

He poured his new concoction into another sample of the fog ooze, and it turned the most gruesome, sickly shade of olive green. Phineas' eyes grew wide; he knew exactly what that meant.

"_Poison,_" he exhaled. "But that doesn't make any sense. Given its crazy potency, we'd be feeling it by now." He began pacing, his chin held in his hand. "Poison. Poison, poison, _poison_."

Given how much dark magic was packed into even the smallest sample, he was certain people would be feeling some sort of negative effects by now. That made him think that maybe humans weren't the intended targets. Maybe the plants? Maybe the livestock, their food source?

He heard the door open behind him, and he was overwhelmed with relief that his brother had finally joined him.

But it was all wrong.

A small part of his brain registered that he never heard the door close. Instead, he heard Ferb shout his name. Ferb. _Shout._

Actually, shout wasn't even the proper word. It wasn't overly loud. He'd describe it as more of a yelp; it was filled with panic, not volume, but it seeped into his ears with no less force. Phineas turned around.

Ferb skidded to a stop in front of him, dressed for the day in his purple-tinted grey tunic and his usual beige pants tucked into his dark knee-high boots. His hands were clasped in front of him. Phineas didn't have time to focus too much on his brother's appearance, though, because his eyes were drawn to his face.

He'd never seen Ferb driven to so much emotion before—and not a single ounce of it was positive. He was winded, though Phineas reckoned it was more from this strange surge of panic than physical tiredness. He wasn't making any sense.

"Need… help—can't tell anyone, can't—and please don't kill me, but I—I woke up, and—"

"Whoa, Ferb." Phineas put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Slow down. I can't understand you. Not when you talk so fast, okay?" Wow. He never expected he'd have to say _that_ to Ferb. "Just slow down. What's going on?"

He watched as Ferb took a couple deep breaths. He seemed a little more collected, but dread was still radiating from him in near-tangible waves.

"Please, please don't kill me."

First Ferb had stumbled up to him, rambling nonsensically, and now this? _Kill him? _Phineas felt unease trickle up his spine, then tingle down to his fingertips. Something big was coming.

"What's going on?"

"I've been… I have a secret, and I promise I had a good reason for keeping it, but I can't get into that right now. This is an emergency, and I just… I need you to promise me you won't freak out. Please."

Phineas felt like his mind was on overload from all of the _out-of-character_ tumbling from his brother's mouth, but something in Ferb's eyes kept him grounded. He crossed his arms in caution and confusion, but nodded.

Ferb didn't move, though. Phineas read his expression, which seemed to say, _just… don't freak out, okay? _Phineas nodded again, and his brother let out a breath.

They stood there.

Phineas felt his curiosity boiling up under his collarbone, building and building. It was nearly unbearable.

"Ferb, just tell me!" he finally exclaimed, throwing his arms out in exasperation. Ferb sighed.

"Do you remember Isabel?"

Well, Phineas hadn't been sure what he was expecting to hear, but that defied even his broadest parameters for _random._

"You mean the spriteIsabel? The _lead-us-to-Excaliferb _Isabel?" His brother's gaze fell to his clasped hands, and Phineas' followed. He appeared to be holding something. "_Wait_, you aren't saying…?"

Ferb opened his hands, and in his palms lied a sprite. She looked around their age, with long black hair and an aged top and flowery skirt that must have once made a dress. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving. Despite the years, it wasn't difficult to recognize her.

"Isabel?" Phineas gasped. "What's she doing here?"

In answer, Ferb shook his head. "First thing's first; something's wrong with her. She's non-responsive and barely breathing. Just look at her wings. We have to do something!"

Ferb had a point; something was off about her wings. They had a nasty green tinge to them. Almost as if…

Oh. Oh no. It all made sense. He just never expected the answer to his morning's inquiries in such a strange form. Phineas scooped the sprite out of his brother's hands, turning on his heel and springing toward the alchemy table.

"No wonder!" he cried. "It all makes sense, so much sense! Malifishmirtz—jeese, he's evil, but he's a genius! Of course he's going after sprites!"

He laid her down, opening up the cabinets and fishing around for ingredients for various kinds of medicines, but by the time he stood, Isabel wasn't there. He looked over to Ferb, only to find him holding her again. His expression was clear; _what are you talking about?_

Phineas plucked up the beaker from earlier.

"I was running tests on the fog. Turns out its almost pure dark magic—a poison."

Ferb paled. "A poison to kill the sprites. His endgame."

Phineas nodded. He shuffled through all their ingredients, snatching bottles and tossing them on the top of the table. "Although, if he wanted the sprite's magic, I don't know why he'd want to kill—"

"Can you heal her?"

Phineas faltered, not because his brother cut him off—which was admittedly strange—but because of the stunning amount of emotion in his voice.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. Poison from some plant, and I can get rid of it in a matter of minutes, but… dark magic? I don't really know."

Ferb looked back down to Isabel and his shoulders slumped. He pressed his eyes closed. _"_We can't let her die."

"I know," Phineas agreed, uncorking the vial with the same shimmery blue liquid from earlier. "I'm going to mix this with some peony root and thyme to create a paste, but… that's the only thing I can think of. If it doesn't work—"

"Well, we've got to try." Ferb located the other ingredients he mentioned, and they began.

"It's so weird," Phineas commented, grounding out the root. "I mean, Isabel, who we haven't seen in eight years, just happens to show up right as Malifishmirtz unleashes some new big scheme?" He froze. "Or maybe she showed up because the Lady of the Puddle needs our help again! Maybe she came to tell us we have a new quest!"

Phineas couldn't help but grin despite the seriousness of the situation, but Ferb shook his head.

"Well why else would she suddenly show up, Ferb? It's got to be a quest, or—"

"She didn't just show up, Phineas. She's… been here a while."

Phineas' hand halted, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean she's been here for a while?"

Ferb smacked Phineas' wrist with the back of his hand, reminding him to keep working. Phineas started grounding the root again, but he kept glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye. It was obvious he was trying to avoid answering, but Ferb never kept secrets.

"How long is 'a while,' exactly?" he tried again, his tone growing sterner.

Ferb took the root from him, adding the dried thyme and the blue liquid and stirring them into a paste. He gave no indication he was going to answer.

"_Ferb,_" Phineas pressed, but was cut off when his brother held the bowl out to him. His expression was pleading, and Phineas realized he was asking him to apply it. He'd never seen Ferb's hands shake before. He took the bowl.

Ferb placed Isabel's limp form in the middle of the table, and Phineas began spreading the paste on her with one of their brushes.

"The wings," Ferb breathed over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Put it on her wings. It's the source of a sprite's magic, and—"

"Got it." Phineas waved him off. If that were true about the wings, then that definitely would have been where Malifishmirtz designed the fog to target. He brushed their creation against her wings, and the second they made contact, there was the same hissing and smoke Phineas observed from before.

There was no doubt in his mind now; Malifishmirtz had designed the fog to infect the sprites' wings and poison them. Isabel started writhing on the table, gasping in pain, but at least it was a sign of life.

"Ferb, hold her down. I need to apply more."

His brother did as he asked, and he, with a little struggle, coated both wings. Part way through, Isabel fell silent again, but continued to tremble and shudder.

"Did it work?" Ferb asked, watching the little sprite with a pained expression. Phineas pursed his lips.

"I think it definitely helped, but…" He faltered. He wasn't sure why, but Ferb seemed more worked up than he thought he should have been. Really, his remedy was like dabbing a knife wound with a wet cloth and saying it was all better, but he reckoned that wasn't really the best thing to tell him in his strangely worried state. "I don't think it got rid of the poison. It just bought us time to find something that will."

Phineas leaned over the table in contemplation. What was that something? What could get rid of the dark magic? What could possibly be so powerful as to—Lake Avalos. _Lake Avalos. _That was it! That had to be the answer.

He stood up straight, facing his brother. From the look in his eyes, he knew Ferb must come to the same conclusion.

"Okay, Ferb, I know what we're going to do today. You grab our traveling cloaks, I'll find a map and gather supplies, and we'll take off."

Ferb mutely nodded, and rushed inside. With him gone, Phineas took a moment to collect himself. He wasn't sure what was in store for them, but he had spent the better part of the morning wishing for an adventure. Well, now he was getting just what he wanted.

His eyes fell to the sprite lying on the alchemy table. She was still quivering, sickly and pale. It was enough to ground him. She served as a reminder that this was a whole new level of dangerous. Malifishmirtz was more powerful, and now an old friend's life was in jeopardy.

Ferb reemerged from the house, tossing him his cloak. Phineas gathered his supplies, and by the time he was finished, Ferb stood by the gate, a bundle that must have been Isabel in his arms.

"We don't have a lot of time if we're going to save her," Phineas exhaled. "You ready?"

Ferb nodded, holding the bundle a little more securely.

"Okay, bro. Let's just hope the Lady of the Lake doesn't mind house calls."

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Let the adventure begin!_

_For those who don't know, Reginald is Lawrence's father. That's why I made that Ferb's middle name. It was just a personal, creative, fanfic choice. I figured it would be a safe guess._

_Lake Avalos is a little head nod to Avalon, which was the kingdom for the original Lady of the Lake myth. However, any other things from the legend are largely disregarded; I'm making this its own kingdom, with my own invented towns. We have some unexpected edits we have to add to the map, so once HeroXLink can get those fixed up, I'm hoping to post the map for the kingdom on Deviant Art. I'll keep you posted!_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	8. Things of Value

_Hey, everybody! I'd like to apologize for my long __absence! My personal life kind of blew up on me. Everything's a bit nuts, and I'm moving in two days, so things will only get even more crazy. Sigh… I haven't been able to write at all since before my last update. Thus, I can't promise a quick update. I might be able to squeeze in some work time, since I don't want to put this on hiatus, but I will be busy._ It definitely won't be discontinued, of course; I've got a lot written, and all of it planned out. Just a warning that it might take a while!

_Without further ado, Chapter Seven. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Things of Value

* * *

"_Seven years?"_ Phineas shouted, and Ferb cringed.

Really, what else should he have expected? Sure, Ferb had never actually lied to his brother—Phineas had never thought to ask, _hey, bro, are you hiding a sprite in your room?_—but he hadn't told him the truth either.

"I did it to protect her," he sighed, holding her closer. He could feel the tremors of her body even through the cloth wrapped around her. He'd been periodically checking up on her, and things didn't look good.

They were silent for a long while, and Ferb dared to hope that was the end of the discussion. Of course it wasn't.

"You didn't have to protect her from me, you know," Phineas muttered, rolling their map up so he could cross his arms.

Ferb didn't have any soothing response, so he chose not to say anything at all. Instead, he shifted his attention back to his sprite. He unwrapped her from the bit of cloth to see how she was doing. It didn't bode well.

She was deathly pallid and her hair had lost its gleam. Her wings were still that sickly green and twitched now and then. Every time they did, her face contorted in pain. Her lips constantly trembled, like she wanted to cry, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Her eyes hadn't opened once since they closed last night. He felt her forehead, finding it burning, but the rest of her body was icy cold, like her wings.

He couldn't stand seeing her like that. Sure, their remedy helped. She would have probably been dead already if Phineas hadn't administered it. He just hoped they could make it to the Lady of the Lake in time.

Danvillage was pretty far east in the kingdom, and Lake Avalos, where the Lady dwelled, was about as southeastern as the Tri-Kingdom Area allowed, but a river led from their village all the way there. If they followed it quickly, they'd probably be able to make it there by morning.

Isabel would have to hold on that long. She had to.

Then Ferb noticed his brother was giving him an odd look. He wrapped Isabel back up and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm just trying to figure out what exactly you've been keeping from me all this time. I mean, it's Isabel, so she's not a pet or anything, but she's… your friend?"

"She's my best friend."

In his peripheries, he saw Phineas stiffen. His mouth fell into a frown. "Oh…"

Ferb resisted the urge to slap his hand against his forehead. Sometimes there was a reason he didn't talk. That had come out wrong.

"You're my brother," Ferb tried, though his companion's face only fell a little further. "What I mean is, you're my best friend in all the world, Phineas. I'm not saying you aren't, just that it's different. You're my brother. Isabel is…"

"Special."

He contemplated his brother's word choice. It was definitely true, but he wasn't sure he appreciated the tone with which he spoke the word.

"Yes," he replied hesitantly, looking back down at the little sprite in his hands.

"Just… how special is she, exactly?"

His eyes shot to Phineas again. "What kind of question is that? I told you she's my best friend."

"And she's a sprite."

"That never mattered." He cupped the girl a little closer, trying to stop her shivering, but he feared how much of it had nothing to do with temperature. He quickened his pace. "I won't let her die."

Phineas' legs weren't as long as his brother's, so he almost had to jog to keep up. "Well it still doesn't change the fact that you never told me a single thing for _seven years. _Did it never occur to you that I'd want to know? Or that you had important information about what was going on with the sprite camps and Malifishmirtz? Things you should have told me!"

Ferb sighed. He supposed he did owe his brother something. He wasn't wrong for feeling betrayed or hurt. He deserved to know everything, so he began with the nature of sprites and their magic. Given Phineas' curiosity and cunning with Malifishmirt's plans, it seemed the best place to start.

Well, that, and it moved the conversation away from his secrecy. Facts about a species were far from hurtful.

When he'd explained all he could to Phineas, he fell silent. He wasn't sure what was to come next, but he definitely expected _something. _Phineas didn't speak. It was more unnerving than any amount of words.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but every second became just a little heavier. He wasn't used to any unease with his brother. When they worked on projects, they were usually so in sync it was like they were of one mind. Now, when there was this weird curtain of _hurt_ between them, Ferb wasn't sure what to do. It was anomalous.

"You know," Phineas eventually mused, "so much makes sense now."

Ferb nodded, though he didn't think he'd acted too suspiciously through the years. He didn't think he'd left enough room for 'so much' to have been in question. He shot his brother a slightly exasperated look.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you and your ridiculous secret-keeping. I was talking about Malifishmirtz."

Oh. Well, that wasn't what he expected. He motioned for Phineas to elaborate.

"Well… think about it. Eight years ago, why did we go on that quest?"

Was that a trick question? Because the Lady of the Puddle demanded it of them. Because the kingdom… the kingdom was being barraged by rainstorm after rainstorm! How had they described it? _Unearthly rain. _His eyes jetted to his brother in surprise.

"Exactly," Phineas chuckled darkly. "At the time, the rain seemed random. Some scheme by Malifishmirtz to aggravate the kingdom and spur the growth of those meatling things he sent after us. But… now it's obvious it's more than that. He's been planning something like this all along."

Hearing Phineas state that was scary, because Ferb knew it was true. The rain from their first quest hadn't been random. Malifishmirtz must have been using it to give birth to more sprites—more prey to be hunted, more magic to steal. Giving birth to the little creatures for the purpose of using them as fodder later. Even for the sorcerer, that was unbelievably calculated and evil.

"It also makes sense from what you described about the seasons. If the Mist Weavers are too weak now to change the seasons, we should have been frying to a crisp under the hot summer sun. Instead there's been rain every few days. Malifishmirtz must still be creating sprites so he can take their magic."

Ferb grimaced. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen all of that earlier! In retrospect, it was blaringly obvious. He'd just never seen Malifishmirtz's bigger picture. It was likely he had this poison fog planned out for a long time, too, and was just now able to bring it to fruition, since he found the second sprite camp and stole all that magic.

If it all proved anything, it was that Malifishmirtz was power hungry, which convinced him of something else; he must have had some way to collect the sprite's magic after the fog killed them. How, he wasn't sure, but the sorcerer must have a way.

Phineas stopped walking suddenly. His hands shot to his hips.

"You know, that was pretty clever of you, distracting me from the fact that you hid this from me for_ seven years!_ I'm not just letting that go, you know."

Ferb sighed, but motioned for his brother to keep walking. They didn't have any extra time to waste standing around and discussing this. With a huffiness unusual to his character, Phineas followed his beckons, plodding back up to his brother's side.

"I mean, I guess I kind of understand why you didn't if Isabel asked you not to, but for _Candavere _to find out a _whole year_ before me?"

Ferb shrugged defensively, in a _not my fault_ kind of way. After all, he didn't exactly intend for his sister to find out.

"I just can't believe it, Ferb," he continued, his voice rising. "If she was only there for a little while, I guess I could understand not telling me, but for you to keep a _sprite_ in our house, becoming your best friend, or whatever she is, and hiding her, and—"

Ferb slapped a hand over his brother's mouth, stopping to turn a lethal glare on him. Phineas stopped too, his eyebrows rising in surprise. The sight of Ferb glaring was a rare one; he never really had any reason to do so. Even when he did, he often just overlooked it, sticking with his usual ennui. But when he actually bothered expressing his frustration, it was nothing short of intimidating.

"You wonder why I never told you, then you go shouting something like that at the top of your lungs? Isabel's being _hunted. _Let's announce her presence to the whole kingdom, shall we?"

Phineas opened his mouth for a retort, then snapped it shut. He nodded slowly, acknowledging the _touché _moment_._ They kept walking.

"Although, it's not exactly like there's much of anyone around to hear," he mumbled. "You know… all those listening trees."

Ferb narrowed his eyes at his brother, who raised his hands placatingly.

"I understand your point. I'm not saying I don't. But… we're in the middle of the forest on our way to the Lady of the Lake. Not many people around."

Until they heard the snap of a twig.

"Not many people?" Phineas faltered. They stopped, looking to their left, where they'd heard the sound. They were met with a wide expanse of forest, dense and uninviting.

Ferb put a calming hand on his brother's shoulder; _it was probably an animal. _He nodded his head back toward the path they were following. _Let's keep moving._

"If you say so," Phineas replied, though now his eyes darted along the trunks, scanning for movement.

After a few minutes, he figured they were in the clear. Then they heard a rustling to their right. Phineas froze up, but Ferb pushed him on with the hand still on his shoulder.

"Didn't you—"

"Just an animal," Ferb stated. Though, after so long of silent communication, Phineas could read another message in his brother's eyes; _yes, I heard it, too. Keep walking. Stay alert._

The hand that wasn't on Phineas' shoulder tightened around Isabel, moving her under the folds of his traveling cloak. Ferb tilted his head to the left just slightly, giving his brother a pointed look that told him to watch that side. His eyes scoped the other. They didn't see anything.

Phineas tried to walk faster, but Ferb held him back, maintaining their pace from before. If there was anyone else there, he didn't want to tip them off that they knew of their presence. It was more tempting to strike when the victim was unaware. It was even better to defend when the striker wasn't aware they were aware. No, they'd keep walking like absolutely nothing was wrong.

"And I can't believe you'd go and talk to our sister instead of me," Phineas said more casually than Ferb would have thought. His eyes revealed he didn't care about the secret anymore, though; he was all business. His hands slowly crept to his satchel, unclasping one side, then the other.

Ferb saw a shadow in his periphery—something moving that was too tall to be a deer or rabbit.

"I did what I thought was _right," _Ferb warned, and Phineas nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes darting to his brother's side. He slid his hand into his satchel, leaving it there in preparation.

Muggers waiting along the sides of roads to ambush unsuspecting travelers wasn't exactly an uncommon thing. Ferb just hoped Phineas had something he'd packed in that bag of his that wasn't just ingredients, because if push came to shove, he didn't think he could fight and protect Isabel at the same time.

Oddly enough, nothing came of their suspicions. They kept walking for half a mark, Phineas continuing to chatter nonsensically the whole way as they surveyed their surroundings. They saw the occasional shadow, but if they were being trailed, wouldn't they have struck by then?

The crunch of leaves. Phineas' side.

Phineas' hand tightened on the strap of his bag, the other still inside. "Did you—"

He'd barely spoken those words before a form sprung from the foliage, tackling Phineas to the ground. The redhead yelped in surprise, dirt flying up as he tumbled down, but they could easily see the man, bulky and gruff. He pulled a knife from his belt, but Ferb moved faster than he could swing it, kicking him off his brother.

As Ferb hoisted Phineas up, though, the man's two buddies emerged from their right—the shadows Ferb had been watching.

"We don't have any money," Phineas yelled. He groped for his satchel, but—_where was his satchel? _His eyes flashed to the ground in panic, but the man Ferb had kicked laughed. He was slowly standing now, Phineas' bag in his hand. He gulped. "You'll see. We don't have anything valuable. No money, no metals."

Tackle-man shifted through the bag's contents, tossing various herbs to the ground. The other two men slowly approached, swords drawn and pointing in the brother's direction, warning against movement. The first of the trio's face soured more and more as he found Phineas' words to be true.

"No money," he huffed.

"That is okay," said the second man. He had short blond hair, but most his face was covered in a cloth that hung over his nose and mouth. He had been watching his companion, but now his gaze fell to the Flynn-Fletchers. "You'll have to excuse my idiotic friend. You see, sometimes he can be so dense and forget what it is we're after. We don't want money."

His voice was slick and imploring, like a used carriage salesman. Something about it was too familiar, too uncomfortable. His accent was thick and altogether very… southern. _Southern. _

Way too much suddenly made sense to Ferb, painting a picture that was altogether too terrifying. But it also created an opportunity to throw the men off balance.

"Of course you're not after money," he spoke, and eight eyes shifted to him—six belonging to the men, and two to Phineas. He seemed to be asking what he was doing, and Ferb hoped years of silent communication would pay off. He tried to tell his brother to focus, but not on him. To stay alert, to look for options and opportunities. It worked.

"What did you say, _boy?" _Southern spat, stepping forward so that the tip of his sword was uncomfortably close. Ferb remained unmoved, though. He had to be cool. Collected. In control enough to make them lose theirs.

"I said of course you're not after money. Rogerick wouldn't want that, now would he?"

The men looked like Ferb had just slapped their mothers.

"_What?_" Tackle-man and the other guy looked to Southern, which made one thing clear; he was the ringleader. While the first two seemed freaked out by his words, Southern quickly regained control of his expression, looking unimpressed.

"Alright, boy. You'll know what comes next then, if you're so smart. Just give us that bundle in your arms, and you can go on your way. Then we won't have to impale your little friend here."

Before they knew what was happening, Tackle-man clamped his hand down on Phineas' shoulder, dragging him back and tossing him to the ground. Ferb shot forward, but was blocked by the edge of Southern's sword.

"Uh-uh," he tittered, a smirk tracing across his lips. "Give the sprite to us."

As ironic as it was, Ferb wished he had Excaliferb. They should have known better than to have ventured off to Lake Avalos without some form of protection.

But that was just it… They _did _know better. They definitely knew better. Which meant they must have had _something_ to use in their defense. Ferb looked back to Phineas, slumped on all fours at Tackle-man's feet.

"Hey, you have eyes only for me, Princess," Southern barked, bringing the sword to Ferb's neck and forcing his gaze away from his brother. What he saw in those few seconds was enough, though. He'd seen a plan in those cunning blue eyes.

"Don't you touch him," Phineas yelled, and Tackle-man kicked him. Phineas rolled forward with a groan—just as he intended. Lying there, a mere arm's reach away, was a vial full of purple liquid, carelessly tossed aside by his assailant. He only needed a distraction so he could reach it without them seeing! Ferb obliged.

"Why are you helping Malifishmirtz? Why are you helping Rogerick? They're insane!"

"Perhaps," Southern sneered, taking great pleasure in creating a knick on Ferb's cheek with the tip of his blade. "But they pay well. What's the life of a few sprites compared to a life of luxury and—"

Phineas made his move, snatching the vial and slamming it down against the ground. He bit his lip in pain as the shattered glass nipped his skin, but he didn't have time to dwell. As the massive cloud of smoke exploded into existence, he sprang for his satchel, wrenching it from Tackle-man's grip.

Simultaneously, Ferb dropped to the ground as Southern swung his sword blindly. The sound of feet scuffing against dirt filled the air, and he heard Phineas call out from his far right. The cloud was dense, impossible to see through, and smelled like oranges, but he and his brother had plenty of experience handling the effects of their homemade smoke screen. These thugs were less fortunate. They coughed and spluttered, their lungs burning with the new substances the boys had long learned to ignore.

A foot stomped down in front of Ferb's face, and he wrenched it forward from the ankle, sending one of the men tumbling backward. From the cry when they landed, he knew it was Southern. He took that as an opportunity to spring to his feet, shooting in the direction of Phineas' voice as he called his name.

He was painfully aware of Isabel in one of his arms, pressed against his chest, where his heart beat much, much too fast. After a few seconds of stumbling, he felt a hand brush his arm, then secure itself around his wrist.

"Ferb?" Phineas yelped.

Ferb let his silence be its own response; no need to give the thugs any more hints as to where they were. The cloud of smoke would dissipate soon enough, and they had to take advantage of this moment while it lasted. With no mind to their course, they took off into the woods.

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Since I'm uncertain when I'll see you again, my darlings, I just want to say I hope you have a super time—regardless of how much it may be!_

_~Lilly-Belle and HeroXLink_


	9. Out of Time

_Hey, everybody! I apologize profusely for the delay! Life has been… … … well, at least I'm mostly moved in. Classes start next week, and I've been training for my RA position. Super busy! No. INSANELY busy. It will probably be another delay, but I still don't think the wait was too bad compared to a lot of fanfics out there ^.^_

_Without further ado, enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Out of Time

* * *

Perrible plucked his hat out of the air, barely managing to catch it before it revealed his presence. Really, it was designed to fit perfectly—even when suspended upside down in a decrepit stone hovel as he spied on his mortal enemy—but the leader of the Guild Without a Cool Acronym had always been known to cut corners.

It was a good thing he had such quick reflexes.

Below him, Malifishmirtz stood over a cauldron, waving his hands above it to create a thick, swirling cloud of vapor.

"Mirror Mist," he spat to himself. "If this is what those sprites call magic, no wonder they're so easy to kill." His hand stopped, but the mist remained.

Ever since the G.W.C.A. saw the strange fog sweeping across the kingdom, nearly every agent had been called to arms. Rogerick's men had become more daring, expanding beyond their job of finding sprites to terrorizing towns and travelers instead. The agents had all been tasked with protecting the civilians, but they were spread thin.

Then Perrible, purely by coincidence, stumbled on Rogerick, of all people. He'd trailed Malifishmirtz's brother for a whole day, until the nobleman pulled out a mirror. Much to his surprise, he actually _spoke_ to Malifishmirtz through it—some form of Mirror Mist magic, though it had never been used like that before.

The younger brother made the mistake of stating that Malifishmirtz was in Shadow Quarry, the largest mountainous region up north. It shouldn't have surprised Perrible; that was the mountain range where Mount Doof had once been. Once he knew that, he took off, determined to find his old enemy and discover as much as he could about his plans.

Hence why he was currently hanging from a wooden beam in an attempt to hear the evil sorcerer.

"Gnorme!" Malifishmirtz snapped.

A few seconds later, some… creature showed up. It had a pointed hat and a long beard, but it's… skin? It almost looked to be made of metal, but if that were true, then Malifishmirtz had achieved a feat of dark magic the likes of which the world had never seen.

_Living metal._

He'd never have believed it if he didn't see it with his own eyes.

"Yes, father, what can I do for you today?" It spoke in a stagnated, choppy way, but Perrible didn't think that was a statement against its intelligence.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I am _not _your father! Call me that again, and you'll end up in a scrap heap." Malifishmirtz's lips curled cruelly. "We both know you're not irreplaceable."

"Yes, sir," it replied, its voice every bit as dapper as before. "I completely understand… Dad."

Not irreplaceable? Did that mean there were _more _of those things? Knowing Malifishmirtz, it was probably just a common threat he used, but Perrible couldn't ignore the dark undertones in the sorcerer's words. It didn't bode well.

That was why he was there, though. He'd sniff around Malifishmirtz's hideout until he found answers.

Hideout was a term he used… loosely. Before he first fell, Malifishmirtz was a daunting villain dwelling in a tower so tall it was like it touched the sky. Now, after his plot with the sprites, he was an even _more _daunting villain… who was hiding out in a dingy cottage with a collapsing roof and warped floors.

It didn't seem like him in the slightest, which made Perrible certain of one thing; Malifishmirtz was doing it for a purpose. If he had to guess, he'd say his old enemy was doing his best to work from the shadows. A foreboding castle? It screamed _evil sorcerer. _This place? It whispered _go away. Empty. _

Perrible knew that wouldn't last forever, though. Given the crazy fog, things would be changing very soon. The dragonpus feared it wouldn't be for the better.

Something was happening down below. The mist, clinging to the surface of his cauldron just moments before, started swirling into a funnel. The liquid started to glow, and Malifishmirtz jetted to it, waving his hand over the surface. A second later, someone else spoke.

"Is this thing even working? Blasted Rogerick, making us do his—"

Malifishmirtz cleared his throat, and the other voice fell silent. "Who are you?" he growled, leaning over the liquid. His hand moved to his staff, his fingers tracing the curves at the top.

"Nothing! I mean, no one, My Lord. Just a lowly, lowly thug."

"And what makes one of my worthless brother's worthless men think he can contact me directly?"

Perrible pulled himself back up on the support beam, inching along it toward the center of the room. He had to be careful; one misstep, and this dingy place was likely to fall apart on him—that, or reveal his presence. He didn't think he could take Malifishmirtz on his own when he was this powerful.

He managed to sneak far enough into the space to see into the cauldron. Reflected there, though the dragonpus knew he was an untold distance away, was a blond man. Half his face was covered with cloth, but he stared up at Malifishmirtz with something like fear in his eyes.

"I messaged Rogerick first like we're supposed to, but he said what we had to report should be done so straight to you." He coughed like he'd inhaled something foul. "We had a strange encounter just moments ago."

Malifishmirtz sighed, obviously displeased with being inconvenienced, but gestured for him to go on.

"Earlier today, we were searching for the sprite camps, just like you wanted, when we came across two travelers. At first we didn't think much of it, but then one of them mentioned a sprite. We trailed them for a while when we realized they actually _had _a sprite with them. Of course, we attacked."

Malifishmirtz raised his eyebrow. "You actually captured a sprite for me?"

The man looked down, his reflection shaking in just a way that told Perrible that the hand holding the mirror he was using was shaking.

"Well… no, sir. Red used some sort of potion that created a giant smoke screen, and Green—the one with the sprite—took off. I have two of my men chasing them as we speak, but I felt it important that I—"

"Red and Green?" Malifishmirtz snarled, his hand falling to the rim of the cauldron.

Perrible's eyes swelled in trepidation. _Red and Green. _No. No, no, no, no… But what other potion-wielding duo was there with that color combination? How did his boys always find themselves in the middle of trouble?

Then the absolute worst thing that could have happened did; Malifishmirtz put it together.

"These boys you came across… they were brothers, right?"

The blond man's eyebrows furrowed. "Boys? How did you—"

"Just answer the question!" the sorcerer shrieked. The Mirror Mist sparked, and the man almost dropped the mirror he was holding. The image in the cauldron turned to a bumbling view of the treetops before he regained his grip and centered it on his face again.

"Yes, I believe they were, My Lord. The smaller one, which was the redheaded potion wielder, said something about their sister. I'd take that to believe they were brothers. Do you know them?"

Malifishmirtz chuckled darkly, and a chill ran from Perrible's beak to his tail.

"Yes, I know them. A green-haired boy? It's quite a rare thing. A green-haired boy raising a sword against you the day that you fell from power? Unforgettable."

Perrible ran his hand over his eyes. Phineas and Ferb… what were they _doing?_ And he knew he had to help them, even if it meant abandoning his mission, but he had no clue where they were.

"I have new orders for you," Malifishmirtz hissed. His knuckles turned white with the strength of his grip around his staff. "I still want the majority of my brother's pitiful excuse for men to be searching for the sprites, but I want those boys… to no longer be an issue. Take care of it."

"I understand, My Lord."

Malifishmirtz flung his hand over the cauldron, and the image of the blond man disappeared. Perrible's tail twitched anxiously. His boys… He pressed his eyes closed.

"I know it's out there," Malifishmirtz growled, and Perrible started. His eyes snapped open, but he saw no one in the cauldron. The sorcerer slammed the butt of his staff against the ground. "I _know_ the fairy is out there! Mocking me. Teasing, and—"

"Who are you talking to, Dad?" Gnorme asked.

Crying out in frustration, Malifishmirtz turned on his heel toward his servant. He thrusted his staff out, and a beam shot from the tip. A second later, where the strange metal creature used to be, was a squirrel.

"I am _not _your father." He strolled past the small, chattering creature, his cape fluttering out behind him as he crossed to the window. "And thanks to the next phase of my plan, _you_ have become redundant."

* * *

Phineas and Ferb ran down the alleyway, skidding to a stop where it ended.

"Hold up," Phineas wheezed, bending over his knees. "I thought I saw something."

He turned back around, jogging up to one of the trashcans they'd passed. Ferb didn't think it was the best time to start picking through it, given the crazy and strangely determined thugs hot on their tail, but Phineas had had that look in his eyes. He'd long learned not to step between his brother and his plans.

About half a mark ago, the boys had run out of forest. Much to their surprise, they'd stumbled on a small town. It hadn't been on their map, but that was what Ferb reckoned they should have expected when they borrowed a map from an antique dealer. It was bound to be outdated.

What terrified him was not simply the idea that they'd run out of time with their pursuers, but with the main point of their taking off in the first place: Isabel. How far off course had this taken them? They needed to get to the Lady of the Lake, not run around some unknown place.

Then he saw the herbs his brother had grabbed from the trash, and he smiled. They'd need poppy seeds, too, if Phineas was looking to make what he thought he was. He put his hand on Phineas' shoulder and gestured toward the center of town, where there was likely to be a baker.

They heard startled shouts from people behind them and took it as a sign they needed to run. The men pursuing them weren't exactly prone to subtlety. It was a good indicator of where they were—but also terrifying, because they were so close.

"I'll need some water and a mixing bowl," the redhead huffed as they veered down another alley. "Almost all the rest I still have in the bag, though those men discarded most of my stuff. I need poppy seeds."

They approached another street and Ferb peered around the corner, looking both ways. To the right, he saw colorful tents. That would be their best bet for finding a baker and their last ingredient. To the left was a long path that led to a clearing. In the center was a well. Just what Phineas needed.

He turned around, pointing for him to go one way and his brother the other.

"Sounds good," Phineas agreed. "I'll start mixing. You get those poppy seeds. Be careful."

Ferb nodded and turned again, but just before he could take off, his brother grabbed his arm.

"Wait! Give me Isabel."

Ferb's eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

"Look, I get that you have some protection complex with her, but they're looking for the sprite, and they expect her to be with you. Why would we do as they expect?"

Ferb pursed his lips. He hated that his brother was right. He motioned for Phineas to turn around, unwrapping Isabel and tucking her into the hood of his cloak. He bunched the cloth back up into a bundle and held it up in a way that said, _not what they expect, right?_

Phineas nodded, and they took off.

The younger of the two dipped along the edges of the buildings, trying to blend as much as possible as he made his way to the well. The eldest already stood out from the crowd with how tall he was, so he didn't bother. He just took off, going as fast as he could. It was almost humorous—like they'd switched personalities. But Ferb also reckoned that if Phineas had Isabel, it was better for him to draw more attention anyway.

At first, all seemed well. Ferb managed to find a baker's cart, which had no trash, but it wasn't hard to find where they did all the baking, just around the corner. He jetted down the alleyway and started digging through their refuse. That was just about as far as his success went. He couldn't find anything with poppy seeds. They wouldn't toss those away.

Though he didn't want to, this was life or death. He slid into the shop, and before the man working there there could question it, he ran past their front counter and into the back.

The room he was in was extremely hot, rendered almost unbearable by the burning ovens. A girl shrieked at his presence and ran to another room, but he didn't let his focus wander. He rushed over to the crates of ingredients, shuffling through. He needed a handful. Just a handful.

He expected the owner he'd dashed past to be on his case already, but for some reason he hadn't. That reason presented itself as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Ferb spun around, coming face to face with the third man who'd jumped them. His surprise only lasted a second before the man's fist connected with his jaw, sending him toppling backwards into a sack of flour.

The bad news? A red-hot burst of pain exploded across his face. The good news? As he fell, he gained a visual of a bowl filled with small, black poppy seeds. The news that was at once bad and good? Upon impact, the sack of flour he'd landed on burst, sending a giant white cloud into the air.

The flour coated him in a thick, messy layer, but it bought just a moment of hesitation from the man—a few seconds that definitely saved his life. His hand felt something heavy and round, and he acted without thinking. He picked up the rolling pin and swung it as he stood back up. He felt it make contact, but didn't stick around to take in the damage.

He scrambled forward, his feet slipping up on flour that covered both him and the floor. He dove for the bowl with the seeds he needed, scooping up a handful and darting to the room he saw the girl flee to just moments before. He felt immensely relieved when he saw a door in the back.

He raced out and back up the alley, before skidding to a stop. Tackle-man stood at the end, glaring at him.

"Give us the sprite," he hissed. Ferb turned on his heel, but could he risk running back in the direction he'd just come? He knew he couldn't have delayed the other guy for too long. He doubted he would make it any other way than through the scum.

Phineas' words played through his mind; _why would we do as they expect?_

He heard Tackle-man running after him, so he did what was probably the stupidest thing he could; he turned back around and ran right at him. When Ferb was right in front of him, he slid to his knees, avoiding the man's sweeping arm. He dropped the ball of cloth on his way, then stumbled back up onto his feet.

Tackle-man laughed, scooping up the bundle. Ferb did his best to look horrified, trying to get his expression to say, _oh no! What have I done?_ Ferb ended his theatrics there. It would take only seconds for the man to discover Isabel wasn't actually in the bundle he'd dropped, and he needed to take advantage of any time he had. He sprinted in the direction of the well.

It was easier getting there than it had been to get to the baker; the crowd parted before him. It didn't occur to him why until a white lock of hair flopped down in his face. He'd forgotten he was covered head to foot in flour. Yeah… he figured _strange_ wouldn't even begin to describe how he looked.

He rushed up to the well, finding his brother crouched along its side, the bucket filled with liquids and chunks of herbs.

"There you are, Ferb! When I didn't see any men after me, I thought—" Phineas finally looked up from his work. His eyes swept from Ferb's head to his feet. He burst out laughing. "What happened to you?"

Ferb gave his brother an evil glare, holding out his handful of poppy seeds. He'd lost about half of what he'd grabbed, but it'd still be enough. Phineas took them, dumping them into the bucket and grinding it with some stick he found.

"I'll need one more minute."

Ferb didn't even have a chance to tell him they didn't have a minute; Tackle-man surged from the edge of the crowd, his face bright red with anger.

"Where's the creature?" he bellowed.

Ferb gave the only answer he could think of; he snatched up a broom leaning against a vendor's cart and held it up defensively. The man laughed, but Ferb gripped it tighter, shooting his brother a look that said_, finish it _now.

The well clearing had emptied quickly, the people scuttling away from the confrontation. The brothers were pleased no one would get hurt that way, but it also meant there were no distractions for the brutes after them.

Tackle-man took a look at the broom again and smirked, pulling his sword from his belt. Ferb was once again struck with a desire for Excaliferb, shoddy blade that it was. At least it was better than a broom. He looked back at Phineas. _Now._

The man lunged at the older brother, slicing his sword in a long arc. Ferb barely jumped back enough to avoid the strike, moving his broom to thwack the guy in the head. Sadly, the soft bristles were far less dangerous than the weapon he was facing. The man only shrugged it off, even angrier.

He struck again, and Ferb raised the broomstick to parry it, but the sword cut right through the center. The man's momentum carried him forward, though, and Ferb stepped to the side, shoving the stubbly half in his face. He lunged for the man's hand when he couldn't see, and managed to dislodge his sword. It fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, so did Ferb and his assailant.

"Phineas, any time now," Ferb yelled, kicking the sword away from them both as the man reached out for it.

"Almost done," the frantic redhead called back. "It just needs—"

"Gah! Doesn't matter, just get it done!"

Tackle-man tried to gain control in their tussle by pinning Ferb, grabbing his hair and slamming his head back, but Ferb managed to ram his knee right into the man's gut. He let out a loud, _oof,_ and Ferb kicked him off, scampering to his feet.

Ferb almost smiled. He couldn't believe he'd actually been the successful one in that skirmish. Really, he was completely stunned.

No celebration would be had, though, because now the third guy rounded the corner. His face was scrunched with a livid hatred, and Ferb's eyes fell to his mouth, which was swollen and bleeding. He bared his teeth in a grimace—and Ferb saw he was now missing half of them.

"Aw, you're gonna' pay," he growled, cracking his knuckles. He spit to the side, a glob of blood splattering on the ground. He looked to his companion, just now staggering to his feet. Toothless grinned widely, then let out a laugh. "Green is mine."

"Phineas," Ferb begged, taking steps back to his brother. He was fresh out of both brooms and ideas. The men lunged.

"Ferb, hold your breath!" Phineas threw one more herb into the mix, and it exploded into a flash-bomb of purple smoke. Ferb had barely sucked in a final breath before it covered half the clearing.

As quickly as the substance came, it was gone. There, lying on the ground, were the two men.

"Poppy seeds," Phineas grinned. "It's all in the poppy seeds."

Ferb didn't know what to do—smack his brother for taking so long, or hug him for knocking them out. In the end, he gestured to the pair and raised his eyebrows in question.

"Yeah, they'll be out for at least a day. Maybe even two. That was cutting it a bit close, though, don't you think?"

Ferb stared at his brother. _Really?_

"What?"

Ferb nodded at their swords, then motioned slicing one through the air.

"Oh!" Phineas laughed. "_Cutting _it close. Wow, Ferb, that was completely unintentional."

Ferb shook his head; _sure it was_.

"It was! But it was a good one nonetheless."

Whatever silent response Ferb was going to give was cut short as the people from the square started pressing closer, their curiosity drawing them to the unconscious men. It was probably rare for them to see two boys—one of which was covered in flour and fought with a broom, and the other who created purple mushroom clouds with their well bucket—knock out two grown men.

Ferb took a step behind his brother, both of them feeling more exposed than they wanted. Phineas turned to Ferb with his mouth open to say something, but one shout shot through the crowd above the rest, and they both froze.

Ferb glanced over his brother's shoulder and saw one of the bakers running out into the street, a rolling pin held over his head. Holding up a finger to silence his brother, Ferb ducked down. The baker began shouting into the crowd.

"Where's the lit'l green-'aired devil who wrecked my shop, eh? Where is 'e?"

A small number of people in the crowd jumped in shock at the raging man, but their eyes quickly found Ferb. Phineas also eyed his brother incredulously, crossing his arms. "Is that why you're covered in flour?"

Ferb ignored his brother's question and grabbed his wrist, nodding his head behind them. They took off again, pressing further and further towards the outskirts of the small village. He knew they were both tapping into some of the last adrenaline reserves they had, but they had to keep going.

Behind them, the sun was beginning to set. They were running out of time.

* * *

_Review, please!_

_So… debut of Perrible the Dragonpus! (*cheers, woo hoo, woo hoooooo*). Now, I've never written for Perry/Perrible before in a __fanfiction, so let my know what you guys think! Also, I've never written a fight scene before… ever (fanfic or not). Fighting is completely new territory for me, so hopefully it turned out alright. _

_Now the baddies are developing personal grudges. Malifishmirtz is being not-so-cryptic (blazingly obvious, but trying to be cryptic anyway. Meh). Things are becoming more complicated, constantly being on the run._

_Tune in to see what happens next! I'll get it out to you guys as soon as possible!_

_Also, despite all the _crazy_ my life has been, your reviews are really inspiring. Leaving a quick note about what you thought/words of encouragement really help me to write more quickly and pump this out to you guys. Thus far this story doesn't seem all that popular, though it is only beginning (and I suppose my expectations could be skewed due to the unexpectedly massive response to my story,_ Enough)._ Your comments help me past my insecurities and put words to a page! ^.^_

_Love, Lilly-Belle_


	10. When it Rains

_Hello, everybody!_

_Huh. Well. Now is when I could list a slew of elaborate and completely valid reasons for why I've been gone so long. That being said, I'm going to skip all of that, as you are here to read a fic, not be my personal therapy session; instead, I shall simply jump straight to the part where I beg your forgiveness for the month's __absence. Like I said last time, this story is not discontinued or even on hiatus; it is simply struggling to fit into my life right now. I'm doing my best ^.^_

_That being said, I hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER NINE:

When It Rains

* * *

Phineas and Ferb raced across an expanse of farmland, away from the havoc of the town. It was chaos back there. The baker had chased them for half the way before his enlarged gut finally slowed him down and convinced him to give up.

"On the bright side," Phineas wheezed, "you're not exactly a 'green-'aired devil' with so much flour on you."

Ferb rolled his eyes. That was just great… because white-haired ghost was _so _much better.

With a few more minutes of running, they were greeted with a wall of trees that extended into the forest. They both nearly tumbled to a stop, gasping for air. When they managed to regain a little of their breath, Phineas broke the silence.

"So… what did you—do to that one guy?" He gestured to his front teeth to show what he was talking about.

Ferb smirked, then pantomimed a swing with the rolling pin.

"Wow," Phineas laughed. "You must have really nailed him!"

Ferb nodded. He of course wasn't really one for violence, but knowing he managed to accomplish what he had filled him with pride. It should teach those thugs to mess with his family. Speaking of which, he needed to check on Isabel. Before he could gesture for her, though, his brother spoke again.

"You know, we could really make a fun game out that. Where you swing the stick, only one end could be blunt instead of a handle. Maybe you could even toss a ball in there. The objective could be to hit the ball, sending it flying. Then you have to run around stones, which could act as some sort of bases, and make it back home!" Phineas beamed. "We could call it… pinball!"

Ferb's head lilted to the side; _really? _Leave it to his brother to walk away from what they just did with an idea for some new game. It was so… _Phineas._

"What?" he chuckled. "Take out the mortal danger, and it could be fun!" He wagged his eyebrows impishly. "You know you want to try it."

Ferb shook his head at his brother's antics, but smiled nonetheless. He had to keep them on track, though. They were on a time limit—one they already pushed to the breaking point. He nodded his head to the forest, asking him where they needed to go next.

"Bad news on that front, bro." Phineas stumbled up to a tree, stretching his arms up and leaning against them. "The map was lost when those goons attacked us the first time." He shook his head to clear his fatigue and stood upright again, pressing forward. "It's not that big of a loss, though, considering how outdated it was. We should just look for a river and follow that. It should work, right?"

Ferb always admired his brother's optimism. It never wavered, even after the cruddy day they'd been having. Phineas always had the best day ever, which was one of the things Ferb loved about him the most—but it also blinded him to the reality of things sometimes. Yes, the map was outdated, but at least it was something. The notion that all they could do was stumble around blindly with the hopes of finding a river that just _might _lead them to the Lady of the Lake… He couldn't stand it.

His eyes shot to the sky. How long had that taken them? How many hours had passed? Too many. They might have already run out of time. That thought made his eyes snap to Phineas' hood. His stomach twisted. Suddenly his separation from the little sprite became too much to bear.

He stretched an arm out in front of Phineas to stop him. His brother raised an eyebrow at him, which quickly fell in concern at whatever was showing on Ferb's face.

"Can I have her back now?" he said softly.

For once, Phineas didn't say anything. He nodded, then turned his back to his brother, inviting him to take the sprite. Ferb pulled Isabel from the hood, cupping her in his palms.

He died inside.

Isabel's wings were almost entirely black. She wasn't even shivering or trembling anymore, lying completely still. He felt her forehead and found it was no longer hot, but had cooled drastically. This was the picture of death.

Ferb reached out for his brother, grasping the air blindly until he felt Phineas' hand on his upper arm. He needed the stability. He also needed some optimism. He blinked down at his brother, letting all of his anguish show.

"She's got to still be breathing," Phineas replied, taking a step closer to study their small friend. "I know I haven't seen her for a long time, but the Isabel I knew wouldn't give up without a fight. She's got to still be alive."

Ferb's eyes shot to the forest in front of him, then back to his brother. _Even if that was true_…

"I know," Phineas sighed. "I know, Ferb. What do we do from here? We'll never make it to Lake Avalos in time."

The sun was nearly set. They were supposed to almost be there by then, not lost in the middle of a forest—with Isabel _dying._ What could they do? They had to do _something! _They always had something… some potion, or last minute save. They couldn't possibly be out of time, could they?

Ferb twisted his arm around, positioning it so he could hold on to his brother's shoulder. He met his gaze.

"You're the idea person," he tried to say. It came out weak and barely audible, but given it had more volume than nearly anything else he communicated, Phineas didn't appear to have any problems understanding.

"I know, and I'm trying." Phineas took a step forward, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temple. He started muttering, "_What to do? What to do?" _for a minute before he fell silent. He stood there for another minute. Ferb knew better than to interrupt.

They registered the noise at the exact same time—the gentle trickle of water across stone. Phineas' head snapped up. _A river!_ Well, neither of them knew how it could help them, but they had nothing else to go on. They took off, turning this way and that, trying to follow the sound. It was soft, barely noticeable, and it wasn't until Phineas stepped down in something wet that they even realized they found it.

"Well, um," Phineas rubbed the back of his neck. "It's really more of a rivulet than a river." He was right. It was tiny, not even a foot wide, streaming over pebbles, twigs, and leaves with a persistence mightier than its size. "But she's a water sprite, isn't she? Maybe you can put her in, and it'll heal her."

It was a long shot, but Ferb didn't hesitate dipping his hands into the little brook, letting the water wash over Isabel. The tip of her right wing twitched. Nothing else happened. They stood there until the sun was nearly gone, but there was no change.

"I really thought… I don't know, I thought the Lady of the Lake might have some ability to long-distance heal her, or something." Phineas sighed and fell to his knees. "I just… I don't know what else we can do."

Phineas looked over to Ferb, and the older saw tears welling up in the younger's eyes. He looked back down. Phineas never gave up, and seeing that look on his face… Ferb pressed his eyes closed.

He couldn't let it end like this. He couldn't just let Malifishmirtz win, and he _couldn't _lose Isabel. He, too, had been hoping the Lady would somehow heal the sprite when she touched the water. A small, bitter voice in the back of his mind questioned if maybe the Lady knew Isabel had been banished from the sprite camps, and simply didn't care. He tried to dismiss that, though. The Lady of the Lake… well maybe it was just that; she needed a _lake._

And that was it. The idea sparked. He pressed Isabel into Phineas' stunned hands and started digging around the sides and bottom of the rivulet, grabbing any and all large rocks he could find.

"Ferb?" Phineas questioned, a smile already tracing across his face.

In response, Ferb motioned to Isabel, silently telling him to watch after her while he handled it. He built up a miniature barrier of rocks, disrupting the flow of the little stream. Water still leaked through, but he managed to cause a build up, the water swelling beyond its usual course into a small, circular pool.

It wasn't a lake. It was far from a lake. But it was a good enough puddle.

"Vanessa!" he called out, and Phineas jumped.

"Vanessa?"

Ferb smacked his forehead. _Duh! _"Lady of the Puddle," he corrected. "Lady of the Puddle, we need you!"

Nothing happened. He felt anger and frustration boiling up inside him. He opened his mouth to yell something, but Phineas beat him to the punch.

"Oh, come on!" he cried. "She's a sprite, isn't she? You should look over her, not be a jerk and—"

Ferb slapped a hand over his brother's mouth. The surface of the water gleamed, then erupted upward. The brothers fell back, blocking their eyes from the water flying everywhere. Ferb felt the flour coating him congealing into a thick, gloppy mess, but he didn't care.

"Ferbalot," came a voice they hadn't heard in eight years.

"Vanessa!" He shot to his feet, pulling his brother up right after. Phineas gave him Isabel, and he looked up to the glowing blue maiden. She hadn't changed at all despite the years. "Vanessa, please you have to help us."

She raised her eyebrow like she couldn't believe they knew her name. Ferb was suddenly worried he might have offended her, but then she muttered, "whatever." She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her voice rang out with the same subtle majesty it did years before. "I have heard your call for help, my champion, and I have answered."

Ferb looked to his brother, who stared back. Dumb luck. Their life was pure, irrational dumb luck. Phineas stepped forward.

"We have a sprite who's sick. It's—"

"Isabel," Vanessa cut him off, her eyes finally resting on the girl in Ferb's hands. "The fog has gotten her, too?"

"Yes," Phineas replied immediately, "Malifishmirtz's fog. Please, if you know any way of healing her…"

The Lady of the Puddle hesitated. "Isabel is not the only one affected. All the sprites across the kingdom have fallen ill. My mother managed to save many of them, using her magic to bring them to Lake Avalos, but many have been lost as well."

"How did she save them?" Phineas asked, his hand once again finding his brother's shoulder.

Vanessa bit her lip. She tapped her fingers together nervously. "I'm not sure I should say."

That hung in the air. Both boys blinked. It was rare for Phineas to become testy or mad, but he crossed his arms indignantly.

"This is the sprite who led us to Excaliferb and helped defeat Malifishmirtz. Not telling us is like sentencing her to death. You couldn't possibly want that."

Vanessa started. "I—no! It's just, well…"

"Please tell us," Phineas pleaded. His tone softened, and Ferb knew his eyes had, too. He usually hated when his brother did this; it was impossible to deny him anything with those big baby blues staring at you like that. What made it worse was that when Phineas did it, one knew it was always free of manipulation. It was completely genuine and thus frustratingly infallible. "Please."

This time, Ferb loved the _Phineas Stare_. Vanessa caved quicker than that mountain had on their first quest.

"She... removed their wings," she stated hesitantly. Phineas' jaw dropped.

"_Removed _their _wings? _How is that even possible? Wouldn't that kill them?"

"No," she refuted quickly. "No, not when my mother does it. The wings are the source of sprite magic and also where all the poison is, and because they are part—"

"Part of your mother," Ferb cut her off. "Since sprites' wings are created from one of her raindrops, she can remove them." It was unlike him to barge in when someone else was speaking, but Phineas was too curious for their own good sometimes. He'd look for answers with a forgetfulness of the fact that they didn't have the time. Ferb held up Isabel, tilted his head to the side, then gave his brother a pressing look; _can we discuss it _after_ she's been healed?_

"Right," Phineas gulped. His hand shot to the back of his neck and he looked down. "So she'll be alright after you remove her wings, right? And once Ferb and I defeat Malifishmirtz, she'll get them back?"

Ferb stared at his brother. He guessed it should have been obvious, but it wasn't until Phineas stated it that it really sunk in; they would once again go after Malifishmirtz. His brother and he would have to take him down. He'd say history was repeating itself if only it were true. In reality, this was already far worse, and he feared it was only the beginning.

He looked back up to Vanessa. The corner of her mouth pulled up and her eyes glimmered with pride and gravity—a confirmation. _My champion. _It wasn't past tense. It was a charge.

"Your suspicions are correct," she sighed. "Malifishmirtz is behind both the rain and the unearthly fog."

Phineas nudged him, smirking. It wasn't hard to know what he found so funny. _Unearthly. _Ferb would have smiled, too, if not for the fact that Vanessa had avoided his brother's question about Isabel.

As if beckoned by Vanessa's words, a drop of wetness hit Ferb's nose. He held his hand out. Rain was coming. Regrettably, he doubted the Lady of the Puddle was the one responsible.

"She'll be alright after you remove her wings, right?" he asked again, looking up into her dark brown eyes. He refused to let her avoid his gaze. She bit her lip, and the water from her core down started rippling nervously. Ferb didn't like whatever was coming.

"The sprites are alright afterwards. They can no longer perform magic, of course. They're pretty much little humans, same as they were, but without wings."

"Great!" Phineas grinned, but Ferb waved him down.

"_But…_" he sighed. Vanessa fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, but looked at him with something like approval.

"But I won't be much help to you."

Ferb's fingers curled around the little sprite, shooting a panicked look to his brother. Phineas' arms tightened in front of his chest.

"You mean you don't know the spell?"

"I _do _know the spell, but… it's complicated. I have only a fraction of my mom's power. It's like… well, it's like a puddle to a lake. A spell of this magnitude—trust me, you don't even _want_ me doing it."

Ferb watched Isabel, only visible in the faint glow of the Lady of the Puddle and the final rays of sunlight weaving through the tree trunks. She wasn't moving. He wasn't even sure if she was breathing. He cleared his throat.

"And if you don't she'll die anyway." He looked back up to Vanessa. Her reluctant face was anything but encouraging, and he wondered what else he could say. Once again, though, Phineas beat him to it.

"You have to." He stood tall, lifting his head with his usual confidence. "She's out of time. It's now or never, and I'd say the former is looking like a far better option than the latter. You want our help defeating Malifishmirtz? Well, we need a sprite guide—wings or not. You have to heal her. Now, Vanessa_. Please."_

Ferb raised his eyebrow at his little brother, thoroughly impressed. He turned a smirk back to Vanessa, nodding in the redhead's direction like, _yeah, what he said._

Vanessa's eyes flickered back and forth between the two before she finally sighed. "You boys really are persistent, huh?"

"Yes. Yes we are." Phineas beamed. "Though our mother calls it 'stubborn.'"

Vanessa smiled, the motion small and brief, before she held out a hand to Ferb. Taking one last glance at the motionless sprite, Ferb surrendered her. Last time he tried to help her, he could see Isabel's face twist into a grimace of pain at every movement. Now she was far, far too still. He felt a pool of guilt boil in the pit of his stomach for not being able to do more.

The Lady of the Puddle gave Isabel a gentle look that startled Ferb. He realized that the two of them must have been friends—years and years ago, before she had been banished. If that really were the case, it brought up one important question; why was she banished? She had friends in high places, especially for such a little sprite. She'd helped defeat Malifishmirtz, just as his brother had said. So how could they do that to her?

Vanessa whispered something they couldn't hear before placing a small kiss on the top of the sprite's head. Shooting one last uncomfortable look at the boys, she bent down to the puddle's edge and laid Isabel on the ground.

Ferb hated how small and alone Isabel looked, her black wings blending well into the darkness of the leaves. She didn't look right without her wings. He also knew she would go crazy without them; she loved flying more than anything. Part of him questioned how he could let Vanessa do this to her, but another _how_ overrode that; how could he let her die?

He wasn't sure what his face was showing at that moment, but Phineas placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright, Ferb," he assured him with a tilted grin.

The Lady of the Puddle closed her eyes. Almost immediately, the water coating her light blue dress and the surface of the ravine rippled with power. A cool breeze swept up around them. She lifted her arms above Isabel and streamers of mist rose, undulating and gliding with the swift motions of Vanessa's hands.

Slowly, the vapor around them trickled into the charcoaled wings on Isabel's back. The impact was immediate; Isabel suddenly crumbled in on herself. It should have made Ferb happy—as terrible as the sight was, it was at least a sign of life—but it was so wrong. Her jerking movements reminded him of the marionettes Phineas and he used to watch at festivals. This new vitality wasn't her own. This wasn't _Isabel_.

Like a sprite without wings.

Ferb felt like Tackle-man had succeeded in stabbing him earlier. If it weren't for Phineas' increasingly tight grip on his shoulder, he wasn't sure what he would have done. He reached over and put his hand on his brother's.

Just like one of Phineas' potions after catalysis, the obsidian of Isabel's wings flickered, jolting to a misty blue hue. Ferb gulped, his eyes devouring this ever-familiar shade. If they were transforming back to usual, would that mean she could keep them? He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn't fight off the overwhelming sense of hope that crept up inside of him._ Misty blue wings, _just as they'd always been.

But it didn't end there.

The more intently he stared at the wings, the more he needed to look away. Instead of staying their normal color, they began to shimmer. He expected them to disappear, but that didn't happen. In a burst of light, a series of brilliant colors danced their way across each wing. The effect was too much and far, far too bright. Both brothers had to look away.

"Um… Vanessa…" Phineas called worriedly, blocking his view from the blinding light. "What's going on?"

Ferb shielded his eyes, too, looking to the Lady of the Puddle. She stared at the center of their personal super nova, unblinking. He really didn't like her expression. She glanced at them for half a second, her eyes widening with almost as many emotions as there were colors shifting through the air—surprise, confusion, trepidation, doubt, wonder.

The wind warmed and the mist chilled, and they felt both whipping at their faces with an unexpected ferocity. The water from the rivulet splashed up harshly against the rocks. Vanessa's hands moved rapidly above Isabel, trying to regain control of the situation, but the light from the spell just grew stronger and stronger.

"I… I don't know," she wailed. She looked like she was trying to stop the magic. "I don't—I—"

"You mean this _isn't _what happens when your mother removes sprites' wings?" Phineas raised his voice, the wind buffering and blowing them back.

"No," Vanessa yelped, her arms flailing over where Isabel lied. "No, and something's wrong. I don't know if I somehow messed up the spell, or—or if something else… all the colors. There's not supposed to be all these colors!"

Ferb wanted to run to the center of the light, to scoop up the little sprite and make sure she was alright, but even looking in her direction made his eyes burn. The wind was pressing against him too fiercely, and the mist that began to form around them made his skin sting with a strange, potent energy.

"Vanessa," he yelled, squeezing his eyes shut, "is she—"

He never finished his words. Before he could, everything stopped. The mist congealing in the air, the gusts, the burning brightness—just like that, it was gone.

Then he heard Isabel groan, the noise as feeble and small as a leaf blowing across the ground. He turned on his heel, desperate to pick her up, but he froze in his tracks the second his eyes found her.

Vanessa covered her mouth, her eyes wide and staring.

Phineas voiced what Ferb could not; "Isabel?"

* * *

_Review, please!_

_So. Who wants to take a swing at what happened here? I wasn't trying to be overly covert, but you never know ^.^ Can't wait to hear what you guys think._

_I will hopefully be back soon!_

_~Lilly-Belle_


	11. It Pours

_Hello, everybody! Good to see you :)_

_Here you go, chapter ten! I hope you enjoy it! (And if you do, I'd love to hear from you!). It's a long one!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb._

* * *

CHAPTER TEN:

It Pours

* * *

Isabel felt nothing but _dark_—congealing shadows that stretched off into an obsidian sea. That's all there was. The first thing she lost was Ferb's voice. That had been the hardest, but after his voice went the pain. That was followed by the harsh, jarring feeling of her body getting tossed around. One by one, each and every sensation slipped away.

Nothing.

Until that suddenly changed.

She curled in on herself, unable to escape the searing heat across her back. She had thought she'd been dying, but how could death possibly be this painful? A gasp of anguish wrenched its way out of her mouth as the feeling of _burning_ flashed across each and every nerve, stinging and scalding.

She wanted to die—but no, she knew she _had_ to hold on. Her back—her wings...

And then it was gone. More than gone: she felt something break inside of her. She felt something powerful and new surge through her veins.

A muffled moan slipped past her lips and she shuddered. A sudden wave of ease collapsed on her, cool and soothing. The tension against her back had disappeared, along with the tormenting disease to which she had been victim all day. She hesitated opening her eyes, fearing the pain might sink back in, but she heard someone yelling.

"Vanessa, is she—"

Hearing Ferb shout like that—something that definitely wasn't like him—made her curiosity peak. She wondered what had happened to her wings, to her illness, to her friends… She opened her eyes.

Blinking away her blurry vision, Isabel was greeted with the smell of soil and leaves. Both pressed against her skin. Her dark hair had fallen around her face, blocking out her surroundings. Her limbs twitched with her effort to move after such a tiring ordeal, so she considered just lying there for a while. Then someone said her name.

"Isabel?"

_Phineas?_ What was he doing here? More important than whether or not her presence was still a secret was another question, though; where was _here? _What was going on?

Using all of her strength, Isabel forced her arms to push herself from the forest ground. Surprisingly, the simple act was exceptionally difficult. It must have been from the stress her body had been through, but it felt as if a thousand rocks had been placed on her back to keep her still. Her muscles trembled as she sat up and shoved her hair out of her face.

She stared down at her hands, clutching the dirt underneath her. It all seemed a little… off. Maybe because everything was cast in a subtle blue light. Noting the glow around her, Isabel looked up to see the last person she had expected to be there.

"Vanessa?" she gasped. "Vanessa, what… are you…"

Her words died in her throat when she saw the look on her old friend's face. Her eyes were wide and horrified, her hand draped over her mouth. The water in her core had gone completely still, tense in a way water never should be. Something was wrong.

Isabel hurriedly rolled onto her feet, meaning to stand and fly up to the Lady of the Puddle. It was her spritely duty to make sure she was alright—that, and Vanessa had always been kinder to her than any of the Mist Weavers. However, the second there was pressure on her legs, she stumbled, completely off-balance. It was instinctual for her wings to flutter and keep her up, but she felt no movement on her back.

There were two small intakes of breath from her side._ Phineas and Ferb! _She tried to spin around, but it was too much. Her legs were surprisingly wobbly, and as she turned, her wings once again failed to help her. She stared down at the ground as her knees buckled—but two hands caught her.

Two hands held her up. One wrapped around each of her arms. One hand _barely _wrapping around her arm.

She gasped in surprise and wrenched her vision up. What she saw was completely incomprehensible_._ It was like she was looking in a mirror, only it wasn't her reflection staring back. Instead, Ferb was standing in front of her, Phineas right over his shoulder.

As quickly as the stabilizing hands came, they retracted. Ferb was gaping at her like he didn't even recognize her. Her eyes flew over all their faces, and they were dumbstruck. So was she.

"Isabel," Phineas choked out, "you're… _human_."

No she wasn't. She tried to flutter her wings to prove it, but they weren't there. _They weren't there? _God, they weren't there. They _weren't_ _there! _She fell to her knees, a strangled noise leaking from her throat. They weren't there—and she was the size of a normal human. She was _human_.

"I don't think she's quite human," Vanessa contradicted, each word weighed before she hesitantly let it float into the air. She pointed, and Phineas and Ferb followed her hand. "Look."

Isabel didn't want to look. She felt an odd tug in her gut. Human? Not quite human? _She didn't have her wings. _It didn't take any effort to know what Vanessa was referring to, though. As she stared down in shock, she saw the tufts of grass around her withering. The circle was expanding out from her, the grass browning and crunching into mulch.

"Isabel," Phineas gasped. He crouched down next to her, running his hand through the shrubbery. It crumbled at his touch. "Are _you _doing that?"

She shook her head madly, her breath quickening. Panic was welling up inside of her, weaving through her ribcage and squeezing her heart. Panic. _Panic. _And suddenly the grass was dying more quickly, keeping pace with her gasps.

"Calm!" Vanessa cried, placing her hand on Isabel's forehead. Whatever magic Vanessa performed, it worked. A sense of ease wafted over the sprite—or… not sprite?—like a stream over pebbles. Isabel took a deep breath. The grass stopped dying. "Isabel, are you alright?"

Isabel swallowed hard. At first she wasn't sure if she could respond, but then she found words roiling up unexpectedly from her throat. They came out with a harsh laugh. "Am I _alright?"_

Vanessa moved her hand to the girl's shoulder. Isabel looked up to her, then over to the brothers. She suddenly felt like she wanted to cry.

"You were dying," Phineas soothed. "It was the only way to save your life, though you were only supposed to lose your wings."

She blinked up at him.

"I guess you missed quite a bit while you were out, huh?" he sighed.

Isabel gulped down her tears, her eyes finally resting on Ferb. He was staring at her with a shell-shocked expression. He hadn't moved once.

"_Well…_" she tried, but the only noise that came out of her mouth was a small whimper. She swallowed hard, trying again. "Well... please, somebody start explaining."

* * *

The rain was coming down hard as they traveled along the river. It had an eerie effect with all the fog in the air, creating a sweeping mist that clung to their skin. It had been a long day for everybody, and dragging it on by traveling even further in the middle of the night in the pouring rain was something they could have all gone without.

It wasn't like they had any other options, though.

Once Isabel had swallowed down her initial shock and panic she found she could stand without too much trouble. Every bit of the poison had left her system when Vanessa removed her wings, so she didn't feel sick anymore. And she'd always been able to walk when she had her wings; she just had never been very coordinated with her legs. At all.

At first she felt like a toddler, tumbling along in a way that was hopefully more endearing than embarrassing. Every time she stumbled or almost tripped, Phineas held out his arm to steady her. She knew they had to keep moving, so she pressed down all her anxiety. She bottled it up tight, not wanting to make the journey worse for the boys. They'd already gone through so much for her.

Ferb hadn't spoken a single word. She knew that wasn't exactly uncommon for him in general, but it was when it came to her. He always talked to her. Or… he had when she was a sprite. Every time she tripped or her legs faltered he'd reach out to help her just like Phineas did, but he always stopped short, like he was afraid to touch her. It did nothing to make the whole situation less unnerving.

She sneezed and a second later, they were all covered in leaves. Phineas spluttered out a yelp, knocking them off and staring in surprise up at the tree they'd just passed. Almost all its leaves had fallen off, now scattered on or around them. Isabel felt dread welling up under her collarbone.

"Must have spooked an animal," Phineas muttered. "A really _big_ animal."

Isabel hoped he was right. She nodded at his statement, as if doing so would make for certain that it was true. She could handle a different outside, but _inside? _The worst part about all of this was the strange buzz she felt from her fingers to her toes. She didn't feel… right.

Size didn't matter. Size she could adjust to.

Isabel somehow felt changed at her core.

She was trying to keep her terror in check, though, and thoughts like that did nothing to make things better. She pulled Ferb's cloak tighter around her shoulders, which was at once comforting and mortifying.

An old, torn up half-top and flowery skirt on a tiny sprite? Totally acceptable. An old, torn up half-top and flowery skirt on what looked to be a human girl of eighteen? _Far _from appropriate. It hadn't dawned on her until she tried walking the first time, only to look up and find both Phineas and Ferb turning bright red at how much skin was exposed as she stood to her fullest newfound height.

She pressed her eyes closed. Vanessa had said they needed to go to the Lady of the Lake, just as Phineas and Ferb had originally intended. She said she had no clue what happened, but that she'd tried to warn them it wasn't a good idea for her to perform the spell. When Isabel looked into her old friend's eyes, though, she saw something else. She saw a wonderment that went beyond a botched spell. Something had surprised Vanessa when she'd tried to heal her.

The ground in front of them was scattered with puddles, which shimmered with a strange blue light. It was one plus side to traveling in the pouring rain; Vanessa could guide them to the closest town, which was a small farming one called Keids.

They had been traveling along a river, and just made it to the bridge; halfway to Keids from Alveo, where the boys had fought some of Rogerick's men.

"Halfway?" she groaned, toppling forward. Once again, Phineas caught her, hoisting her back up to her feet. She was seriously beginning to doubt she would make it. Looking around to the tired faces of the Flynn-Fletchers, she knew it was a mutual attitude. The only thing that probably kept them all from passing out was probably the chilled bite from the rain.

If there was anything Phineas wouldn't stand for, though, it was a negative attitude.

"So," he drew out, swiping his dripping hair from his face, "I know talking will make this go by faster."

Isabel tripped again, this time falling all the way to her knees. Both boys once again reached out for her, but she lifted her hand to wave them off. Biting her lip, she pushed herself up and forced her protesting legs to straighten again. If she was going to survive, she'd have to be strong—no matter how much she wanted to curl up and cry. She took more steps forward, and after a moment of hesitation, Phineas and Ferb followed.

"You know, Ferbalot, we never got to finish our conversation from before we were jumped by those goons."

Isabel looked over to Ferb, but if he had a response to his brother, he didn't let it show. He kept his eyes ahead.

"Conversation?" she asked.

"Yeah." Phineas turned a playfully irritated glare on her. "A conversation about just how you lived with us for seven years. I still can't believe it. Isabel, you know you could have told me, right? You could've trusted me."

Then her best friend surprised her; he spoke.

"And yet the day that you find out is also the day that you announce to the whole forest that we have a sprite, which in turn caused Malifishmirtz's men to attack us. Yes, we were _completely_ unjustified in keeping this from you."

Isabel let out a laugh. Thankfully, so did Phineas.

"Yeah..." Phineas rubbed the back of his neck. "You make a good point, Ferbooch. I'm just saying, it would have been nice. We could have had so much fun. Think about all the sprite-related elixirs we could have made!"

Phineas spent the rest of their trek detailing a library full of such ideas, from concoctions to change wing color to potions for increasing flight speed and duration. It was encouraging to hear his voice as they went, but it also made Isabel's heart ache.

She wasn't exactly a sprite anymore, but she could feel in her gut that she wasn't human. And even if she was physically, she_ wasn't _human_. _Although, if she was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure if she could ever claim to be a sprite either. They didn't want her.

If she wasn't a sprite and she wasn't a human… then what was she?

She stopped, pulling her cloak even tighter around her. As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the sob from breaching her lips. She almost fell again right there, but she felt Ferb's hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes shot up to him in surprise, hoping maybe her usual Ferb had surfaced from this strange, stoic boy beside her, but his gaze was etched on the road ahead.

"I know," he said, not meeting her eyes. He reclaimed his hand. He didn't say anything else.

"Only a little farther, Isabel," Phineas chirped, taking her elbow and tugging her forward again. "We've got to almost be there."

He kept speaking words of encouragement until the second part of his statement came to be a reality. The trio passed by field after field until they finally saw a brown barn. Phineas let out a laugh of triumph and, with an energy Isabel couldn't comprehend, took off toward the barn. Ferb stayed by her side, knowing she definitely couldn't run, and by the time they made it to the barn, Phineas already had the doors unlatched and opened. They walked inside.

"Wait," spoke a voice that came from none of them. A moment later, Vanessa rose from a puddle behind them, just outside the door. "I do not know if I will be able to help you again, so let me speak my peace now."

The trio regrouped, staring up at the Lady of the Puddle. Her image seemed to glow even brighter here than in the forest, though maybe because their attitudes had changed. Finding this barn was cause for celebration, even if they didn't have such enthusiasm in their drained limbs.

"You must go to Lake Avalos to see my mother. She should be able to help you, Isabel, and turn you back to normal. From there, I implore you to heed my call once again." Her gaze fell to Ferb. "My champion, free the kingdom from the threat that is Malifishmirtz and his magic once and for all. You three are our salvation."

Phineas, Isabel, and Ferb nodded. It felt anticlimactic for the charge laid before them, but they were tired and so cold they could practically feel the rain dripping into their bone marrow. A nod was all they had left to offer.

They thought that was all, but then Vanessa raised her arms. A pulse of magic blew from her towards them, and an instant later they were all completely dry. Even the flour that had coated Ferb was gone.

"My parting gift. I wish I could do more, but I can at least provide a dry night of sleep."

"You've done plenty." Isabel tried to smile. "You saved my life, Vanessa. Thank you."

"Be prepared, little one." She faltered. Isabel wasn't exactly all that _little _any more. "I still am wary of what happened to you. It was like something inside of you fought against my spell. I met a wall I wasn't expecting, and things only got more bizarre from there."

Isabel nodded. She wasn't planning on saying anything, but words toppled from her mouth before she could stop them. "Why do I have to be so _different?_"

Vanessa smirked. "You say to the glowing puddle."

Isabel tried to smile back, but in the end her lips only trembled. Vanessa reached her hand out. She never touched her, but it was enough to direct her vision back up to her old friend.

"Isabel, ask anyone here, and they'll tell you that they love that you are different." Her hand dropped and her form started rippling. "Don't tell those cranky, old Mist Weavers, but that's why you were always my favorite sprite. You still are my favorite sprite, no matter what size you are."

The tears that Isabel had held down for so long tipped over the rims of her eyes. She nodded again, and Vanessa disappeared, sending water shooting up and outward. Thankfully, they were too far into the barn's protection to get splashed.

Isabel felt a hand on her shoulder again, but when she turned, it was Phineas smiling back at her instead of his brother.

"It'll be okay, Isabel." With that, he yawned. It was a long yawn, strong, then faltering, then swelling even more with his stretch. Isabel and Ferb followed his example, their eyelids feeling like sacs of flour over their eyes.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep," Isabel muttered, rubbing her eyes. They were weighty from the tears she'd shed. "I don't know how I'll ever sleep again with… with…"

"Hey, emotional trauma is only reason to get sleep more," Phineas laughed. He always amazed her with that positive attitude of his. He dropped down on a hay pile. "Ferb and I—" He yawned again. "Will be right here. Right, bro?"

Isabel looked over to Ferb. He met her gaze for the briefest second before his eyes shot back to the ground. He nodded once. Isabel stood there, waiting for when he'd look back up at her again, but he didn't. He resolutely stared down at his feet.

Isabel decided she couldn't deal with one more confusing thing. Not today. Not after everything that had happened. She followed Phineas' example, crossing over to a stack of hay. She swallowed once to bury her turmoil, then again to gather her will. She laid down and pressed her eyelids shut.

* * *

Morning came far too soon, but Isabel opened her eyes. The barn had a large window up top, and sunlight streamed through unashamedly. Hay scratched against her legs where Ferb's cloak had been disheveled and she curled back up in it.

"Good morrow," Phineas beamed, suddenly leaning over her. She started, sitting up. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

Ferb groaned next to her, flopping an arm over his eyes and muttering, "not so early today."

"What?" his brother laughed.

"Potions can wait." Ferb rolled over, his shoulders rising and falling with his sleep-addled breaths. "Start without me."

Phineas' grin widened. "Um… we're not at home, Ferb. We have to make it to Lake Avalos."

Ferb sat up, disorientation written across his features. His gaze shot to his brother, then all over the barn before finally resting on her. He blinked.

Isabel looked down to her lap, brushing strands of hay from the folds of the cloak. It was the strangest feeling, looking at him and being the exact same size. The whole world was off-kilter. It was so different and weird.

She could still feel his searching gaze. He was obviously stunned that the events of yesterday had indeed happened. She had a difficult time believing it, too. She would have convinced herself it was all a dream, if her dreams last night hadn't been so ridden with terror. No, she knew it had been real because life was nothing compared to her nightmares.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry," Phineas said, his words lofting and cheery. She hoped Phineas would always be around whenever she was sad. He had a way of dragging her back to the light.

"Me too," she sighed.

Ferb nodded his agreement, getting to his feet. Isabel staggered up as well, the action a little easier since she had some sleep, but no more unnatural than before. They all looked around, but there wasn't much to eat in a barn. Even if there was, it didn't belong to them. They gathered in the middle.

"I had some food packed," Phineas grumbled, digging through his satchel, "but I lost almost everything when that one guy dug through my bag. After we made that potion in Alveo, I'm running on empty."

They all looked at each other. Phineas' stomach growled. What were they supposed to do now?

Ferb's eyes widened at something behind them, and he barely shoved Phineas to the side before a pitchfork swung by his head.

Isabel tripped forward, grabbing Ferb's arm and spinning around. Just behind them was a balding man in patchy clothes, a pitchfork in his hand and a glower on his face.

"Dirty, rotten kids, thinkin' ya' can freeload off of me! I'll teach a lesson to the lot of ya', I will!" He brandished his tool-turned-weapon menacingly, swinging it again, but Ferb pushed them back before it could do any damage.

"Please, sir, we had nowhere else to go," Isabel squeaked, barely able to stay on her feet after staggering back.

"So ya' thought you'd steal from me? Thought you'd stay 'ere for free, did ya'?" His lips curled and he spit to the side.

Phineas raised his arms with the hopes of placating the man. "No sir," he responded quickly. "We don't have any money, but we'd be happy to repay you in some way."

"Repay me?" The farmer eyed Phineas, sizing him up. "Skinny boy like ya' don't look fit for manual labor."

"True," Phineas laughed, slowly lowering his arms. As he did, the man lowered his pitchfork. Their little potion maker was anything but threatening. In fact, Isabel thought he was the very definition of endearing. He had a way with people that she couldn't even begin to understand. "I'd be terrible at any tasks you'd want, but I had something else in mind."

"Somethin' else?" The man still looked on edge, but at least they'd established a dialogue. He was no longer swinging his tool around like a maniac. Phineas apparently took that as an invitation. He strolled forward, slinging an arm around the man's shoulders.

"Yeah. I just need a few easy ingredients, and you'll be a new you."

The farmer shrugged him off, staring at the youngest of their trio like he'd just run him over with a verbal ox cart. He obviously had never dealt with a personality like Flynn before.

"What?"

"Don't worry," Phineas smiled. He gestured towards the entry to the barn, and the two of them started walking toward it. "I've never had a disappointed customer yet, and it's the least we can do since we crashed here. I've got an elixir with your name written all over it."

With that, Phineas and the farmer were gone. Isabel looked to the door, then to Ferb, back to the door, and then back up to Ferb again. She couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"Okay… what just happened, exactly?"

Ferb's shoulders rose and fell once in a silent laugh. He pantomimed pouring and stirring a beaker, then gestured to the top of his head.

Isabel frowned. He was being too quiet. More so than what she was used to, at least. She blew out a puff of air, trying to not overthink it. It had been an eventful few days; everyone deserved a little leeway for odd behavior.

She was trying to convince herself of that notion just as Ferb did something that went way beyond _odd behavior._ He stiffened, looking at her hand wrapped around his arm like he just realized she was still holding on to him. Then he took a step back, out of her reach.

That was the last convincing Isabel needed; she was certain now that he was distancing himself from her. She felt a nagging suspicion why twist her stomach.

"I don't know what happened," she blurted out. Ferb raised his eyebrow at her, and she sucked in a gulp of air. "The grass, when it started dying, or that weird moment with all the leaves—I swear I have no clue what happened, or why…"

Her words slowly fizzled out, and when they completely died, Ferb nodded, just once. The motion was curt and painfully vague. Isabel bit her lip. The silence between them was thick and difficult. She rocked on the balls of her feet—only to fall forward. Stupid, stupid lack of wings! It threw off her entire center of balance. Thankfully Ferb caught her instead of stepping to the side and letting her face-plant. Honestly, she hadn't been sure he would, given his strange behavior.

She blinked up at him, intrigued by the fact that she barely had to tilt her head up now. He looked so different up close. Her eyebrows furrowed as she reached up and took a lock of his hair. When she was small, she'd been able to see about ten shades of green from strand to strand, each just as thick as her finger. Now she could curl her finger around an entire bundle, the color a consistent, spring-grass green. It was so bizarre.

She shifted her gaze from his hair to his eyes. She couldn't understand the stunned look in his until she finally registered just how close she was. His hands were on her sides from when he caught her. She dropped his hair and let out a squeak, staggering back against a bundle of hay.

It exploded.

The hay, which had been pressed and tied into a tight wad, burst into the air in a cloud before falling all over them both. And Isabel knew in her gut that she was responsible. Looking back up at Ferb's surprised face, she knew he was thinking that, too.

"I just ran into it," she tried. She hadn't _caused _it to explode; it was just her momentum. She couldn't make a haystack explode. Of course it was her momentum.

Ferb crossed behind her, picking up a piece of rope that held the hay together. Then another. And another. Isabel couldn't believe what she was seeing; the thick rope that had been wrapped around the hay was now in several pieces.

"Isabel… this is magic." He turned and met her eyes. "This wasn't because you backed into the hay. I think you somehow…"

"No," she laughed, the sound sharp and a little manic. "Come on, Ferb. I can't cut through rope, or—"

"Make leaves fall off trees?" he cut her off. "Or make grass die because you're panicking?"

Panicking. That sounded like a good idea right about then.

"No, that wasn't me."

He didn't look impressed. Isabel couldn't blame him; she wasn't very convincing, even to herself. She didn't know what to do, though—with this strange turn of events, with his odd behavior, with the weird… magic?

"Sprites can't do any of those things. They move water." She paused; when did she start referring to sprites as _they? _That was surprisingly surreal and heavy. She shook her head. "Sprites can't do this!"

She swung her arm out at the hay, which blew into the air again. Her hand shot to her mouth. There was no breeze. And even if there was… it couldn't blast every single strand of hay on the ground five feet straight up in the air. Sprites couldn'tdo that. Sprites _couldn't _do that! But… she just had.

Ferb spat hay from his mouth and stared at her.

"Ferb, what's going on?" She felt her eyes watering. This was all too much. "Because it's not just that I'm… I'm… _this,_" she gestured to her physique, "but I doing all sorts of crazy things. What's happening? I don't—I don't—"

Ferb raised his hand, cutting her off. He gestured for her to breathe. He had a point; every time she panicked, she felt that strange build up in her gut—the one that was a precursor to more weird, unexplainable phenomena.

She looked at him, her eyes begging for him to say something. He looked just as uncomfortable as she did, but he could see her need. He swallowed.

"I always said you were special."

That hung in the air. She didn't know where to go with that. Neither did he. They just stood there, trying to create conclusions through an awkward staring contest.

After some time, the door to the barn opened. Ferb and Isabel straightened in attention.

"But that's what she said, Chuckles," Phineas sighed, tossing an empty vial back and forth between his hands.

Isabel looked over to Ferb, raising her eyebrow. _Chuckles?_ The farmer was now sporting a full head of glossy brown hair, no doubt thanks to a potion. He put his hand on Phineas' shoulder.

"Like I said, Phineas, she'll come 'round. If it don't fit, then don't commit; that's what I always say. Your mama's just tryin' to look out for ya', but you'll get to marriage when ya' get there. Don't let 'er discourage ya' too much, squirt. Can't force a flowe' to bloom 'fore it's spring."

"Can't cross a bridge before you reach the river," Phineas said.

The farmerruffled his hand through the redhead's hair. "You're a quick learne', kid."

Before their conversation could go further, Ferb cleared his throat. Both newcomers turned their heads in his direction.

"Hey, Ferb," Phineas beamed. "Glad to see you two are doing alright. Charles was telling me some interesting things about Rogerick you'll definitely want to hear."

Charles, the farmer, gave a soft, affectionate sort of smile to Phineas before stepping forward, heaving in a breath to address the other two in the barn.

"Squirt here was tellin' me ya' were headin' to Lake Avalos, then goin' afte' Malifishmirtz."

Ferb shot a look to his brother; _you _told _him that?_

Phineas smiled weakly and shrugged, but Charles put a hand on Phineas' shoulder.

"I'd be careful who ya' go tellin' that to, but this is a small town. I want those nasty thugs gone just as much as the next honest guy. I just wanted to warn ya' 'bout the south. The closest town to Lake Avalos is Kaigate."

"That's Rogerick's town, right?" Isabel chirped. Charles turned a smile on her.

"Right as rain, darlin', but the dange' don't stop there. The south is heavily 'nfluenced by Rogerick in general. He's gone and tossed so much money 'round down there that Amiasgate and Thrythgate are practically under his control, too. You'll find a lot more of those so-called protectors of his down in that area, so ya' need to be careful."

Although they appreciated the information, Isabel figured they didn't need yet another source telling them just how dangerous their lives were now. Nevertheless, she adopted a grateful expression.

"Squirt also told me ya' ran into a few of those brutes out there on the road. They move faste' than you'd think, so it's best if ya' press on to keep the head start ya' already got. I'd like to feed ya' first, and send ya' with some food for the journey. Times are tough all 'round, so it won't be much, but we'll do what we can."

"Oh, Charles, you don't have to do—"

The farmer raised his hand, cutting Phineas off. "We all want Malifishmirtz gone. It's the least I can do." He looked back to Ferb and Isabel. "Why don't the two of ya' brush yourselves off, and ya' can come in and meet the Mrs."

Phineas blinked. "Yeah, why are you covered in hay?"

Ferb shot a look at Isabel, but that was as far as his answer went. He motioned for her to come, and they walked over to Phineas and Charles.

"So is this a new pattern, Ferb?" Phineas laughed. "I'm gone for, like, ten minutes, and suddenly you're covered in something from head to toe?"

Ferb lifted his eyes to the roof in exasperation.

They ventured to the farmer's house. The meal was some sort of chicken stew that was amazing. It was filled vegetables and dumplings and spices they didn't usually see up in Danvillage, creating an aroma that steamed into their nostrils and filled their bellies before they even got a bite. The farmer's wife gave them some dried fruits and meat for the road, which Phineas packed in his bag.

From what Isabel could tell, the farmer's wife was a sweet and quiet lady—until Isabel stood, and Ferb's cloak fell to the side a little and showed her old sprite attire. Then the woman shrieked in a very _unladylike_ way. Before Isabel knew what was happening, she was being pulled from the room by her wrist and into a dusty one that looked like it belonged to a child, but had remained untouched for years.

The woman dug through a trunk and produced a misty blue tunic that looked long enough to be considered a dress. It had swirling, silver embroidery around the sleeves and an ivory sash for around her middle. It couldn't have been a dress, though, because the woman also pulled out a pair of long, tight black pants meant for traveling. She pressed them into Isabel's hands, demanding she put on proper clothing. Isabel wasn't sure if she'd ever been redder, but she wouldn't turn her nose up to real clothes.

When she was dressed, she stared at herself in a dusty, full-length mirror. She bit her lip to keep herself from crying. It was just too weird. A hand mirror used to be considered full-length for her. Now she was so tall, so… No, she didn't know what she was. She could only come up with a list of things she _wasn't._

She had no wings.

She didn't want to stand there anymore. She was a stranger to herself, and facing that was just too much on top of everything else.

When she emerged from the bedroom, Phineas and Ferb gaped at her. She'd never worn _sleeves _before, let alone pants and boots. She held out Ferb's cloak for him, staring at her feet.

"Well… how do I look?" she barely got out. There was a silence too long for her liking. She glanced back up at the boys.

"You look great," Phineas smiled.

The corner of her mouth turned up, and she looked to Ferb, waiting for his answer. He exhaled slowly. It was a heavy moment—one that spoke of beginnings. She knew just as well as her two companions that this was it; their quest started here.

"Human," Ferb decided. "You look human."

* * *

_Review, please!_

_Ah, Phineas. I love my darling Phineas. He gets threatened with a pitchfork, and he's all, hey! A new friend. __Plus Ferbella awkwardness. Poor Ferb has no idea how to even._

_So. You'll probably notice this is a smidge on the angsty side. For those who like that, more power to you, but I'm aware _angst _and _Phineas and Ferb _aren't typically things that one would put together. Just so you know, it won't be constant identity crisis with crying and pouting. This story will take on that usual PnF uppety nature soon enough; everyone just has to have a few my-whole-life-has-been-a-lie crisis moments before you can get there. Because why not. Always darkest before the dawn, and what not. Insert more cliches here. Yup._

_Anyhoo, since I'm in such a weird mood, I'll force myself to shut up here. Please review. PM me. Or ignore me. __Have an awesome life._

_~Lilly-Belle_


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